


How Many Stars

by gatergirl79



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Original Character(s), References to Norse Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, Vikings, War, Work In Progress, harlequin inspired story, historical setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatergirl79/pseuds/gatergirl79
Summary: Dena Carver is a young women heartbroken when her lifelong love leaves her to marry someone else. Things are made worse for her when her father returns from a meeting with the King and discovers that she’s to me married off to the son of the Danish lord in a desperate attempt by his majesty to stop the decade long war.Kristjan is a man as damaged as his body. After being brutally captured and tortured by Saxons for their pleasure, he is left a broken man, filled with anger and hate. Having lost the respect of his family and clan he has no Dane spirit left. Being forced to marry a Saxon was an indignity he had to bare being a dutiful son and Dane.Slowly the pair begin to see each other as equals, defending the other when necessary and fight for acceptance within the wider community.Loneliness will bring them to each other - Love will keep them together.





	1. Chapter 1

 

_September 973AD_

_Winchester, England._

 

"This constant fighting will end between you." shouted the King, his hard rough voice echoing around the great hall.

 

"Your highness, it’s those barbarians, Sire." Antony insisted taking a step forward, while sending a hard look to his Viking enemy standing only feet away.

 

"I believe your son has forgotten himself Lord Lindsey. Quiet him or I’ll have my guards do it for you."

 

Fuller shot a look of disappointment and anger to his son, causing Antony to back away.

 

"Now I understand you have a daughter!"

 

Fuller bowed his head in conformation. "Aye. She’s to be married to a young man in the village Sire"

 

The King frowned and his voice hardened. "A young man in the village - I see. Well Lord Lindsey, I’m sure this young man will recover."

 

Fullers eyes widened in disbelieve. He understood what the King would have him do. "Aye Sire. - But my daughter may not."

 

The King straightened his back and lifted his head. "Is your daughter a good woman, Lindsey? Is she loyal to her Father?  - Or more importantly, is she loyal to her King?"

 

"Aye Sire."

 

"Then she’ll do as we _both_ command, will she not?"

 

Fuller lowered his head and sent his son a warning glance as Antony took a step forward once more, causing the young man to pause, his jaw clenched.

 

 

"And you Hekon! You have four sons?"

 

The deep voice echoed in reply. "Aye. - Sire." his face fighting against the rage in his chest. "But my oldest is married."

 

The King nodded. "So three then?"

 

"Sire my youngest is too young to take a wife." he lied. Roydan was fifteen and perfectly able to take to the marriage bed, but he was an excellent and strong young warrior, and Hekon would not have him married to a Saxon whore. "My third son Kristjan, Sire."

 

"Let me guess dead or betrothed?" the King was growing increasingly annoyed with the two men.

 

"No sire. He would make a perfect husband for Lord Lindsey’s daughter." He almost choked on the words, feeling the burning eye of his second son, Balder, in his back.

 

The King nodded. "Then it’s settled. Lord Lindsey’s daughter will marry Hekon’s son and with this marriage this infernal fighting will stop. Do you understand me! - STOP!!"

 

The four men bowed low.

 

"Now all of you get out of my sight, you have a wedding to prepare for." The men backed to the door, their head hanging low. "Oh and Gentleman. If I hear _one_ word of war amongst you, I’ll ride up to your villages myself and burn them both to the ground. Understood!!"

 

 

__* * *__

 

 

_Stamford, England._

 

The image of the pale moon wavered in the black water of the Wellard. It was a large full moon and the night had the chill of the coming autumn, while summer clung to its existence. The water splashed against the bank and the smell of the damp grass filled the air. Dena pulled her cloak in tight about her, waiting for the man who at the tender age of twelve had captured her heart.

 

 

"Dena!" a soft male voice came from behind her.

 

"I thought you were never going to get here." Dena whispered, turning to the dark figure.

 

The man stepped into the light of the moon and Dena watched as his gaze skimmed the ground. His thin stature looking uneasy. The darkness masked his features. His brown eyes turning almost black, along with his hair.

 

"Are you alright? - Your note sounded important." She concluded taking a step towards him but he backed away from her. "Blake, you’re scaring me."

 

He took a deep breath, inhaling as much of the cooling night air as he could. He swallowed, lifted his chin and spoke "I’m leaving."

 

"What?" Dena laughed nervously.

 

"I’m moving to Nottingham with Father." He looked shamefully at the ground.

 

"But we’re?" she stammered, her throat catching.

 

"I’m to marry my cousin." His voice flat and cold floated to her.

 

"What?" Dena could hear the crack in her voice, anger built in her chest. "And what about me?" She was becoming breathless from the battle to control herself. "Everyone expects us to marry?"

 

"I’m sorry Dena. - But… my cousin has an estate and a fortune."

 

"A Fortune!" The words shot from her lips like arrows. "Money! - That’s why you’re leaving. I thought you loved me?"

 

Blake took a step forward only this time it was Dena turn to back away hands raised in defence.

 

"Dena." He held out his hand "This match was made when we were so young. You don’t know what love is."

 

"Do not tell me what I feel." Dena clenched her hand in tight balls. "And you do me suppose?"

 

The guilt on Blake face told her everything. "Blake?"

 

"Dena. - I’m to marry my cousin."

 

 

The memory of his trips to Nottingham three times over the summer filled her mind. He had told her it was on family business, now it seemed more personal. Her heart clenched.

 

"Dena I’m …."

 

"Don’t!"  She interrupted with a flat, vacant voice. "Just go."

 

"Dena!" He repeated.

 

"Go!!" She screamed, so loud the bats in the trees above took flight.

 

Blake turned on his heels and slowly vanished into the darkness, as the large clouds covered over the bright full moon. The surroundings became black. Dena was alone, cold and hurt.

 

 

Dena stood alone within the blackness looking down into the water at her feet. What was her life without him? _Could I drown in there?_ She asked herself. How could she face the village, face her father. The water rippled. Her wedding was only three weeks away. Everything was planned. Her dress was made, waiting in her chest. Now she was alone and humiliated. She could end it now and get back at Blake in a single action. _When I’m found dead everyone will look to him when they discover his cousin._ The thoughts of revenge danced around the reassesses of her mind.

 

 

A tree across the river rustled, causing Dena to jump. In the distance was the dim lit village of the Danes. They had arrived here twenty years ago and for a while the two communities had seem to co-exist peacefully. Until one bad winter set them against each other. The fighting may at one time been down to a lack of food but now it had become a battle of wills. A fight for honour.

 

 

Dena stared at the village blankly. Slowly all the anger and pain seeped from her until she was an empty shell. She would return home and not allow Blake or anyone to see how much it hurt. She would wish him well when he left and hope bandits saw him as an easy target. "They may rip his heart out. - Slowly. Just as he has done to me." She whispered, pulling the edge of her cloak up to her chin, and then taking a painfully deep breath. She turned and walked back to her home.

 

 

__* * *__

 

 

"God will deal with him my dearest." Said the caring voice of Bessie, wrapping her arm around Dena in an attempt to comfort her. But Dena didn’t want pity. - Especially from Bessie. The woman may have taken her mother’s place in the house but she would not take her place in Dena heart. Outside, in the distance, Blake and his father rode past there large manor house. Bessie looked to her step-daughter. She hadn’t said a word since Blake’s plans to leave came to light. In fact she had shown no emotion at all, which was such a difference as she had always shown her love and devotion to those closest to her. Now it was as if her heart had frozen.

 

 

"Dena dearest, Are you alright?" Bessie asked softly.

 

"I’m well. Thank you." Dena replied coldly turning to leave the window. "We have butter to make."

 

Bessie stared after her. Her heart almost broke for her. If only she would say something. Scream, shout, call him names but nothing. It made Bessie worry. Many a girl had died from a broken heart and she didn’t want Dena to be another. She looked out the window to see the large cart vanish behind buildings. "May you pay for this Blake Ives?" Bessie spat harshly.

 

 

Bessie walked to the kitchen to find Dena still, like a statue of flesh and bone. She was not the girl’s mother. She was only the second wife of her father. But Bessie had known Dena since childhood. They had a good, friendly relationship back then. But with her mother’s death and Bessie entering the home to care for them all that had changed. The young girl was but fifteen then. She loved her mother very much. Bessie had not pushed to form a connection with Dena, she only hoped for acceptance. One day.

 

"Dena?"

 

Dena swung her head round to see Bessie in the doorway. "What!" she snapped.

 

The older woman wanted to ask if she was well for a third time but the anger and pain in Dena’s eyes told her that it would be a mistake. "The butter was finished this morning."

 

Dena nodded and stormed past the small woman, causing a gust of air to send Bessie’s dark hair flying.

 

 

Dena needed to be alone, and it seems her room was the only place she could be sure of solace.    

 

 

Fuller and Antony Carver rode into the village to sly looks of sorrow and guilt. Passers by lowering their heads.

 

"What the hell is going on?" Antony asked, looking at the people below him "What the devil are they looking at?"

 

Fuller shrugged at his son. "I wish I knew?"

 

"Don’t suppose they know?" Antony said looking to his father.

 

Fuller widened is eyes, then shook his head. "Impossible."

 

"Maybe its Dena."

 

A terrified look filled their faces and the pair increased their pace to get to their home with all speed possible.

 

 

"Dena!" Fuller cried, rushing into the house.

"Aye."

 

Fuller stared at his daughter with worry as she descended the stairs.

"What’s wrong?" Antony cried bolting in through the door behind his father.

 

Dena frowned as she took the final steps. "Wrong?"

 

"My dear…. is everything well?"

 

 

Dena’s heart was pounding him her chest as she knew the whole sorry mess had to be explained. "Everything is quite well, Father."

 

"But the looks? - We got some of the strangest look from the villagers."  Antony added.

 

Bessie appeared from the back of the house.

 

"Oh." Dena looked at her feet for a moment. Then taking a deep breath she raised her head to answer. "It’s probably because of my wedding. Blake‘s……."

 

"You know?" Gasped Antony.

 

Dena looked at Antony with horror. "You knew?"

 

"Of course I knew. - I was there."

 

Dena’s face grew red with her anger. "How could you. I’m your sister."

Antony looked thoroughly guilty. "I couldn’t stop it Dena, I did try. - Tell her father."

 

"You too!!" Tears were burning in her eyes at their betrayal. "Did you know also!" she accused turning her blazing eyes on Bessie.

 

"Of course not." Bessie gasped, her hand raised to her throat.

 

 

"How could Bessie know? We’ve only just returned. I’m surprise that you and Blake know."

 

Dena stared at her father. A frown knitting her dark brows. "Of course Blake knows. He’s the one marrying her."

 

"Her?" Fuller and Antony looked at each other with confusion. Something was wrong.

 

 

"Let’s take a breath." Fuller ordered with a wave of his gloved hands. "Who is Blake marrying?"

 

Dena looked accusingly at her brother. "Why don’t you ask Antony." she snapped.

 

Antony frowned. "Last I was informed he was marrying you."

Dena gave a hurt, shattered laugh.

 

"Dena?" Fuller looked at his daughter. Dark rings encircled her eyes. They were cold, cold as steel. "Who is Blake marrying?"

 

"His cousin. - In Nottingham." Dena’s tone was sharp.

 

"What!" Antony shouted. "What are you talking about?"

 

"It seems he’s in _love_."

 

"I’LL KILL HIM!" Antony headed for the door, his fingers wrapped around his sword.

 

Dena’s heart was pounding in her chest making her sick. "He’s already left with his father. This morning."

 

"What?" Fuller replied with a raised voice.

 

"I’ll ring his damn neck, if I have to go all the way to Nottingham to do it." Antony said, clenching his fist.

 

"Antony." She breathed with a shake of her head.

 

 

Fuller walked over to her and placed his large old hand on the arm. "Are you alright?"

 

 

The look in his eyes almost made Dena break her resolve and cry there and then. "Perfectly Father." She smiled, her throat tightening. "You must be tired after your long ride. Go and wash, I’ll fetch you both some food."

 

Dena turned to see Bessie behind her. Ignoring the old woman she vanished into the kitchen.

 

"Is she well?" Fuller asked his wife with a kiss to her cheek.

 

"I do not know. She hasn’t spoken a word to me in three days. Which in its self is perfectly normal."

 

Fuller smiled warily.

 

 

"Is the King well?" Bessie asked across the table.

 

Fuller looked uncomfortably to his son. "He's well."

 

Dena looked to Bessie then to Antony before settling on her father. "Father, what was the news you thought I already knew?"

 

Fuller and Antony exchanged nervous, guilty looks.

 

"Father?" Dena was already feeling on edge.

 

"He’s heard of the troubles with the Danes." Fuller answered finally. Playing with the bread in his hand. "He’s given me an ultimatum."

 

"It was hardly an ultimatum." Snapped Antony. "More like an order with a hint of a threat"

 

"He says it’s to stop or …" He froze.

 

"Or what dearest?" Bessie asked with concern.

 

Fuller coughed unable to tell the women what was said.

 

"He said that if the fighting doesn’t stop he’ll burn the village to the ground." Antony finished.

 

"What!!" The women exclaimed in shock. "The whole village?"

"Aye!" Fuller nodded quietly.

 

"But he can’t. All our people." Dena looked frantically to her father. "What about the Danes?"

 

"Well the good side is he’ll do the same to them." Antony chuckled.

 

Fuller shot him a look of annoyance and anger. "Don’t be a fool Antony! He won’t go after them, he needs peace with the Danes. He can’t risk upsetting their kin across the sea." he shook his head. "He’ll burn us out then probably hand the land over to them"

 

 

"We can’t let that happen. There has to be something. - Anything"

The two men lowered their heads.

 

"Fuller? What is it?" Bessie asked with an apprehensive look.

 

"The King has already told us what’s too done." He fixed his eyes to the table, unable to look at his only wonderful daughter.

 

"What is it Father? We have to do it. Anything to save the village."

 

"I’ll doubt you’ll be so willing when you hear what it is." Antony snapped, his fist falling hard on the wood.

 

 

Dena was growing panicky and adjusted her seat. "What?"

 

There was a strained silence, so quiet the sound of mice running across the floor could be heard from the table.

 

"He wants you to marry Hekon’s son."

 

"What" She giggled nervously. "But he’s already married. Is he not?"

"His eldest is. - You’re to marry his third son."

 

"She can’t possibly. - Their barbaric" Bessie replied in horror before another silence fell.

 

 "What about Blake?"

 

"He’s marrying someone else." Antony murmured, before glazed apologetically at his sister.

 

"The King couldn’t have known that."

 

"He didn’t. - None of us did." A sympatric look passed across the table. "You were to brake off the betrothal."

 

 

Dena stared down into her plate. She wasn’t going to marry Blake now anyway but there was something so final about the King’s command. If Blake arrived at her door. Begging her to come back to him. If he arrived with words of apology and love she would have no choice but to send him away. Send him away so she could marry a brutal Viking from across the river. Rising to her feet she made her apologies and rushed from the room.

 

 

Dena looked out to the river. She could see the Danes fires flicker, like the stars on the other side. It was not a clear sky, autumn was getting closer and the harvest would be upon them in a month. She would have …. She _will_ be married by then. She shook her head to clear it. She had not let her heartbreak affect her but the idea of marriage to a Viking. To a stranger had been too much to bear. She arrived in her room in a flood of tears. Falling on her bed to weep before rising to face the future.

 

 

"Dena?" The comforting voice of her father came from behind.

 

"Aye." She replied without moving from her spot at the window. A shawl wrapped tight about her. Raising her hand to her face, she hoped that any trace of the tears where gone and that her face had returned to its former self.

 

Fuller stood next to her and reached out for her hand. "Dena, my dearest. - I am so very sorry." he could see the small tracks on her cheeks. "I’m sorry you've been pulled into this terrible business and about Blake. I know how much you loved him." he tightened his grip in an attempt to comfort her.

 

"Do not be, Father." feigning a smile. "I wish him all the happiness." The lie just rolled from her tongue while her heart felt as though someone had drove a sword through it. A Viking sword.

 

Fuller lowered his head in guilt "I should have let you marry years ago"

"I was not ready to marry years ago. And neither were you. Mama was ill and…" Thoughts of her mother’s failing health five years previously. "And you and Antony needed me." She smiled, trying to reassure him. "You could not have known that Blake would leave me or that the King would…. demanded my marriage." Those last words caught in the tightened throat.

 

"My dear." he whispered. "If only I had been here."

 

"You would have what? Made him marry me?" she paused _Maybe that would have been a good idea._ Then with a shake of her head, the thoughts cleared. "It wouldn’t have mattered. He’s in love with this cousin, he told me. Our marriage wouldn’t have changed that." her voice was so chilled and unfeeling it broke Fullers heart to hear it.

 

 

"My husband may be better that Blake." She doubted it. "He may be handsome and loving." Again she doubted it. She looked at her father and smile woefully. "Father there is nothing any of us can do to change our circumstances. We’ll just have to put our faith in the King and in God that everything will work out for the best."

 

"Oh my dear." Fuller kissed her hair. "You’re a good daughter. A saint."

 

"I would not go as far as to say that Father."  She smiled.

 

 

__* * *__

 

 

The morning came with a bright warm light, and for a few moments Dena smiled. But with the smell of breakfast and the sound of the birds, she realised that everything had not been the nightmare she’d woken to believe. She was to marry a Viking and all because the men of both villages found it necessary to fight and kill each other. All on the suggestion. No the order of the King of England. She let her head rest against the pillow as the warm sun covering her face. Maybe she would die of a broken heart before the wedding. If the King didn’t know that Blake had abandoned her then he might believe that it was because of his order. _Then he’d be sorry_. She thought but in truth she knew that a King wouldn’t care about the heart of one young woman. He’ll be more concerned with the fighting that would doubtless continue. She lay staring at the beautiful clear sky. No one would believe autumn was almost with them. Not with such a hot sun and a bright sky.

 

"Dena, dearest you need to get up." Said Bessie as she stormed into the room. Dena turned her back.

 

Bessie swallowed hard. She still couldn’t get used to the hatred Dena felt for her. They’d been so close once. "Dena your father wants you down stair as soon as your dressed and put on your best dress, you’re going to see Lord Bohmson."

 

"What!" Dena announced, flying up in bed. "Now!"

 

Bessie looked at her softly. "Aye my dear. Your father and brother want to meet with this son. And he wants you to go to."

 

Dena shook her head. "He doesn’t need me. He can make the arrangements."

 

"Aye dear but - but he wants you so that if you want to refuse you can."

 

"Refuse? - but the King’s orders, the village?"

 

"Your father would give up anything to save you my dear and so would your brother. If it’s a choice between your happiness and the village. Which do you think they’ll choose?"

 

 

Dena slid from her bed and walked to the window. Outside the traffic of the small village was going about. She watched the faces of the children, saw her friends and their families. Her neighbours. Her father would sacrifice all of them for her. She was filled with that responsibility. "Tell him I’ll be down presently."

 

Bessie smiled at her step-daughters back and headed down to her husband.

 

 

It was pleasant out in the fields of Stamford, the sun high in the sky. Dena followed her father and brother slowly. Unwilling to rush into the horror that awaited her. Bessie had said she could refuse but Dena could not allow her father to sacrifice the village. Fuller sent her a look over his shoulder then he glanced at Antony, whose face matched his our anxiety.

 

 

They entered the village to stares of suspicion. Walking along the dirt covered road. Dena couldn’t help but scan the scene. There were stalls on the side of the road, people stood bartering for goods. It was almost the same as her village. She wondered if the stares would continue throughout her marriage - _her marriage._ That word meant so little to her now. She continued to examine, the houses where single story wooden home with thatched roofs. All but one. Set away from the main path was a larger wooden building, two stories, similar to her own. _Bohmson's house_. Further down at the end of the long dirt track was a large foreboding building. Much bigger than any other house in the settlement and round. Dena’s heart thumped hard against her ribs. She was sure they'd break from the pressure.

 

 

They entered the large hall. The wooden walls covered with tapestries of Viking gods. _Not only do I have to marry a Viking but a pagan to!_ Dena, her father and Antony stood gazing at the long table position opposite the door, far across the hall. Hekon Bohmson sat in the centre. To his left was his eldest son Dag, his broad shoulders twice the length of Fuller and Antony combine. On his left sat his opposite. Slim with well sculptured arms, his hair long and as yellow as the sun, _Handsome_ Dena thought before motionlessly shaking her head.

 

 

"Lord Lindsey. - I see you’ve brought your Son. - and Daughter?" Hekon glared at Dena.

 

"Aye!" Fuller replied with a harsh tone. Dena lowered into a curtsey.

Hekon and Dag each gave her a wicked smile while the slim son’s was warm, almost welcoming. Dena felt a shiver race down her spine.

"Does she have a name?" Dag announced through narrow eyes and a stretched grin.

 

"Dena, My Lord" she replied softly her eyes fixed to her feet.

 

The men looked at each other and nodded. "These are my son’s Dag." he motioned to his right/ "And Roydan." The men bowed their heads

"I understood you had four sons Bohmson."

 

Bohmson laughed wickedly. "Oh - I do, my son Balder has gone to fetch the betrothed."

 

Dena eyes shot up for a moment. Roydan was not the betrothed? Looking at him through her lashes she understood why. He was far younger than her. But if her betrothed was anything like him she may just survive her marriage.

 

 

They remained still as they waited in the round room. Dena scanning the hall. She was sure it would hold everyone in this village. As well as her own. In the centre was an open heath. Hekon and his sons drank their fill of ale and Dena frowned. _A true host would offer us some wine, some food and a least a seat. - Barbarian._

 

 

Dena felt a cold chill hit her back and the skirt of her blue gown flew in front of her. She knew what had happened, her betrothed had entered the hall and she held her breath.

 

"Ha, Balder. Kristjan, come in and meet your wife."

 

Dena froze with her head low, scared to look. She could hear a thumping noise like wood hitting wood, followed by shuffling. Soft like a mouse hurrying across an empty room. Dena sensed what was occurring before she heard her brother’s harsh, angry voice cry out.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Antony cried furiously. "She’s not marrying that thing!!" 

 

 

The brothers stood gripping their swords in defence of Kristjan. Dena raised her hand to Antony’s sleeve and tugged it before looking up to the shaded figure standing in front of the table with his back to her.

 

"This is an insult!" Fuller yelled. "The King will hear of it."

 

Hekon raised an eyebrow of indifference. "Please. Go ahead."

 

Fuller’s face grew red. "He will not allow this."

 

"Will he not? My son maybe …..Scarred, but it was at your hand."

 

Kristjan raised his head to look at his father.

 

"And the way I see it, as you took his face and his honour. The least you can do is give him a wife." Hekon replied coldly.

 

"His face?" Dena couldn’t stop the comment and the brothers attempted to snigger, but a warning glare came from the covered figure.

 

"Don’t worry, he is still presentable." Hekon grinned. "Show the girl what she is to marry, Kristjan."

 

Dena swallowed hard as the figure reluctantly turned to face them. Lowering the wide hood down from his face.


	2. Chapter 2

 

A joint gasp escaped Antony and Dena’s mouths. Kristjan Hekonson had been branded, the scar of a hot iron seared into his flesh. Making its way from his forehead to his cheek, passing the very edge of his left eye. A few more inches would have blinded him.

 

"As you see, your handy work is well done." Hekon announced with spit. "You’ve turned one of our best warriors into a crippled, useless, waste."

 

Her heart jumped at the sight. She wanted to defend her village but she knew it was true. A decade fighting had created all kinds of monsters.

 

"This may have been done by someone from our village."

 

"May have!" Dag interrupted angrily. "You’ve been killing us since we arrive." his voice was dark and hollow.

 

“Once we did live in peace.” Dena whispered. More to herself than those gathered.

 

All ignored the woman statement. Feigning ignorance at her words.

 

"You’ve killed your share!" Antony declared with added fury.

 

 

Dena’s eyes were fixed on the man in front of her. _Marry. - You have to. - The village, you can’t risk the village_. She took an unsteady step to him. "Sir. If you will have me. I will do my duty."

 

 

Kristjan stared down at the Saxon in surprise. He did not want to marry. His body was a broken shell. He could put no woman through the sight. But he had no sympathy for a Saxon, not even this one. His father had been right; they were to blame for his current situation. He was once a warrior with a guaranteed seat in Valhalla. He would have been welcomed by Odin himself, his father had said. But then those bastards, captured him and ripped his body to pieces.

 

 

He’d been hung from a tree by his ankles. While his attackers had taken thick wooden log to his hips. Breaking the left bone to shatters. Then the thin tree branches and hot pokers came. If he had died then he’d be in Valhalla instead of stand there about to be shackled to a Saxon, his enemy. For life…. Or until he kills her. He looked into her brown eyes, as a strand of auburn hair escaped her braid. She hadn’t changed all that much over the years. She was no great beauty like Thordis, but pretty. Her eyes were not as bright as he vaguely remembered them being. But it didn’t matter how she looked. She was a Saxon. An enemy.

 

 

"So you agree Lady?" Herre Bohmson looked to the pair with a cunning grin.

"Aye Sir. If your son will have me for a wife."

 

"My son has little say in the matter." There was a long pause. The disbelief of her word settled into her brother and fathers ear.

 

"I’m assured she’s still a virgin!" Hekon prompted.

 

Dena’s face turned bright red and Kristjan felt is left hand involuntarily tighten around his walking staff.  _You’re Enemy_.

 

"Of course she’s a virgin! How dare you! I’ve had enough of this. Dena we’re leaving. - And I can assure you of this Herre Bohmson, the King will hear of this insult."

 

Dena turned to look at her father pleadingly.

 

 

"Insult. There's no insult. But you yourself did say she was betrothed to someone else. I don’t know about you Fuller but to my boys betrothal is as good as marriage." he snarled.

 

 

Kristjan stared at Dena, who in turn was staring at her father. Kristjan turned to face his father, reminding himself of the pain.

 

"Sir, I can assure you I am a pure as the day I was born." she announced quietly, embracement filling her voice and a hot flushed enveloping her face. "And if you doubt it then _you_ can refuse the match."

 

"We’ll see." he smiled coldly. "I’m sure you’ll agree that we should have this over with. Three days."

 

Dena straighten her back, she had a hope that the question of her virtue would have put an end to the nightmare. She bowed her head, and curtsied.  "Three days."

 

 

Fuller and Antony seem completely frozen to the spot in amazement. Dena had never been so strong and level headed.  The men’s eye widened. Still filled with anger and fury they took their leave.

 

"Where are we to have the ceremony?" asked Kristjan in a low voice.

 

Hekon stood and called after his guests. "The ceremony. As I’m sure you will not want it in your village and … We do not what you in ours, I suggest the river bank. You bring the priest?"

 

"Didn’t think you’d care!" Antony snapped.

 

Herre Bohmson’s eyes turned heated. "We don’t! A mere exchange of an oath is good enough for us, but we can’t have any reason for the King to call foul, now can we. So you bring your priest. The bank. Three days. When the sun is high overhead."

 

 

Dena looked once more at Kristjan, who was watching with a distant glare. Was she really going to do this? Why not, Blake had left her, and she would not allow her own happiness come before that of her friends, and family and neighbours. Fuller didn’t say a word, just rushing his daughter out of the hall with all speed. Behind them hey heard a howl of wild laughter.

           

 

 

"So Kristjan, what you think of your bride?” Dag snigger, a self-important grin on his lips.

"She's a Saxon." he replied coldly hobbling over to a chair. The roar of laughter echoed again.

 

"Well at least you can make her pay for the crime." Dag continued. "If I weren’t already married I might have insisted on her for myself. It could be fun breaking that soft back."

 

Kristjan tried not to send him a scornful look as their laughter grew. He may hate her but he’d not wish Dag on any woman. Dag was Kristjan’s oldest brother. But it was Kristjan whose reputation as a lover was - had been. - That of legend. A fact that irritated Dag to no end. Kristjan smiled to himself.

 

"I hope you’ll make the most of her." Hekon said misreading the pleased grin on his sons face.

Kristjan finally had to glance at the table with a disguised look of sorrow.

 

"Come my boy. I’m sure you still know some tricks to get pleasure from a woman. Although I must say that I’m glad we won’t be having any half Saxon runts running around." Hekon looked around to his son’s for their agreement.

 

 

Two years ago his father would never have spoken like that to him. But now a rabid dog was treated better than he was. He gone from being the hero of the settlement to the dirt beneath their feet, and all at the hands of the Saxon scum. Maybe he would make his pretty wife pay for that. But Kristjan knew he wouldn’t. The reason he had been so loved by the women before was because he treated with tender hands and soft words. He wasn’t like Dag and Balder who had no care for what their women thought, as long as they satisfied their lust. Kristjan looked to Roydan, his young brother had a sweet demeanour but his weakness was caring what was thought of him. Before he would hang on Kristjan’s every word, but not since his cast down. He barely even looked at him, scared by his face maybe, or of the idea that his family and community could turn on him so easily.

 

 

"You’re not marrying that thing!" Antony shouted as they crossed the river Wellard. The anger was as clear in his voice as it was in his eyes.

 

"It not your choice Antony! - I have agreed to the King’s command and I will stick to it. Beside I have no one else to marry."

 

Antony and Fuller stop in the middle of a field. "Dena, if you’re doing this to heal your broken heart it’s not wise."

 

Dena turned to the two worried men with a high head and a stubborn face. "I’m not doing this because of a broken heart; I’m doing this for the safety of everyone."

 

"I’ll deal with the King. I‘ll explain."

 

Dena raised her hand. "Explain? Herre Bohmson will go to the King and say you refused to obey him! He‘ll say that his son was a perfect match. That there is no reason for my refusal."

 

“Not when he sees him.” Antony walked to his sister and took her arms "Did you see that - that man!" he swallowed.

 

She lowered her head. "I saw. - I also heard. I no fool Antony, I know that Herre Bohmson told the truth. We did that."

 

"We! _We_ did nothing, and even if we had he's the enemy. They’ve done just a worse. That’s probably the one who killed Drew’s brother Edward."

 

 

Dena’s eye’s widened. Drew Gillis was Antony’s best friend and his sister Catherine was one of hers. Edward Gillis had been killed just over two years ago, while hunting with his brother.

"I’m sorry Antony but I will not disobey the King and neither should you. He wants me to marry my enemy and I will do just that."

 

Antony drop his hands in frustration and glared at his father "There’s not talking to her."

 

"My darling, I know you’re an honourable girl and you don’t want to disobey your King but….." His eyes were turning deep red from worry. "But I’m your father, and I’m thinking of your safety. Those men hate us and there is no telling what they’ll do to you. What he’ll do to you."

 

 

Dena felt sick and the terrifying thoughts that ran through her mind, the horror he may force on her. She wanted so desperately to tell her father what he wanted to hear. To return to her room and stay her until the King arrived with his torches. Blake, it was all down to Blake. If he was still there they could elope, run away from there. Sparing her father and the village she loved. But he wasn’t. He was in Nottingham with his pretty wife. Of course Dena didn’t know if she was pretty but it was be just her lot if Blake’s cousin was the most beautiful woman in all of England. The fates hated her like that. After all Dena was plain, as plain as anything. Sure Blake had called her beautiful, but that was when she was young, before her womanly body took hold. She had no figure to speak of. She had uncontrollable brown hair and flat cheeks. Her skin had darkened with the sun. Other than Blake no one had ever taken a liking to her. Had kissed her. "Are you ordering me not to marry him?"

 

Fuller saw the determination in her eyes and knew there was no reasoning with her. "No."

 

"Father!" Antony yelled.

 

"There’s no use. She’s doesn’t care." he snapped. "You expect me to tie her up and refuse."

 

"Why not. - She can’t marry him."

 

"Why? Because of his face or because he’s a Viking? Did you argue that point with the King? Was it before or after he threatened to burn down the village with no care of those inside."

Antony frown. She was right. The King’s orders were to be obeyed and they all knew it. - She knew it.

 

 

 

__*  *  *__

 

 

 

The day was dark and cloudy, not the bright sunshine a young woman imagines for her wedding day. It seemed every day since their engagement was like this. As if an omen of the horror that waited ahead. As Dena looked out of the window towards the village that would soon become her home, she noted the sombre feeling surrounding her. Everyone outside were prepared for the nuptials, but not one of them seemed happy. Of course why would they? Dena was betraying everything she held dear. Betraying her village, her family. The occasional eye lifted to her, but flashed away quickly. It may be on the King’s orders but this marriage, to an enemy was almost unforgivable.

 

 

The day had the air of a funeral rather than a wedding. They were morning, but morning what? For her life that would be forfeit to the barbarian, for the betrayal she was committing for her peoples own sake. Maybe they wished the fighting to continue. _All of them have lost someone in this war; you’d think they would be happy for the fighting to stop._ Dena thought staring down at the darkened faces. She had expected resistance but this was not resistance this was - disgust.

 

 

"Dena." The soft voice of Bessie came from behind her.

 

She didn’t look, her gaze becoming fixed on the cloud over head _I hope it rains. Maybe we could - no!_ She shook her head.

 

"Dena, what’s wrong my dear?" Bessie said placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

"Nothing!"

 

Dena had always been cold towards Bessie, but this was cooler, as if she had no feeling at all. She had been like this since Blake left.

 

"You look lovely my dear." Bessie’s voice was smooth and caring. With no children of her own, she had hoped that Dena would come to see her as a mother. But it seemed that was not to be.

 

Dena closed her eyes in a cringe. _I’d look better if I were in love. If I were marrying Blake._ She told herself.

 

"Dena? You can change your mind Sweetie"

 

Dena swung around to look at her step-mother with burning eyes. "You would have me betray my King and risk my family and village?"

 

"No! But we all know you don’t want to do this, your father and brother are against it"

Dena threw up her hands to silence her. She didn’t need to hear that she was betraying her families’ wishes.

 

 

"Do none of you understand that the King is not to be disobeyed. If I refuse this match his majesty will burn our village to the ground. We will have no home, no name and neither will anyone else here."

 

 

Bessie was thrown by the heat in her voice. She felt shame fill her. Dena was sacrificing herself at the altar of marriage, for her family and friend and all she, her husband, and her step-son had done was berate the girl for days. It must be hard enough for her to give up any hope of love, happiness and maybe if what Fuller had said was true, children. Bessie felt a string pull in her heart. "I am sorry my dearest."

           

 

Dena took hold of the comb that lay on a small table by the window and began to slide it down her long dark mane. Her shape intake of breath told Bessie that she was growing frustrated. She could feel Bessie’s eyes burning into her back. As the comb separated her strands of hair. Dena wished that it was her mother helping her prepared for the wedding. Her tears swelled in her eyes but she held them back. A knock sounded on the door causing her to jump.

 

"Aye!" she called.

 

 

The door opened and Fuller walked in. His eyes widened at the sight of his daughter. Dressed in a pale yellow gown, her hair free, waiting to be covered with a white veil. It was such a change to her usual drab green and blue gowns. _Just like Mary_. Fuller thought, thinking of his first wife. _The image_. He looked into her face as he walked to her and saw the misery. "My dear, are you sure?" he paused as he saw Bessie shake her head in warning. His brow knitted and glances at Dena "Are you ready?"

 

She lowered her head and took his arm.

           

 

She walked through the town to the burning and blistering stares of her community. It was as if their angry, burning looks were making her blood boil. Behind them walked Bessie and Antony. Followed slowly by the villagers who had been asked to attend the service.

 

 

It had been decided that because of the hostility between the two factions, the ceremony was to take place on the small wooden bridge that crossed the Wellard. The Priest had come from Stamford with the others. Father Robert had been shocked when Fuller had explained the situation to him, and had even offered to send word to the King and persuade him to change his mind. But both the Father and Fuller knew that he would be of no use. The King had a stubborn will and would feel that any interference from the priest or the church would be testing his authority.

 

 

They stood in the dim sullen light as a cold breeze blew past them at great speed. Dena lowered her head; the sound of whispers reached her, from both sides of the river. She couldn’t face looking up at the man in front of her.

 

 

Kristjan had spent the past days in a whirl, as the idea of standing up in front of not only his village but also that of the Saxon’s filled him with anger. His scarred face on show. Letting them see the dishonour they had forced upon him. He had tried to convince his father that the match could only cause more problems than it solved. That he would rather die than that a Saxon bride. But neither point swayed his father. He saw it a fitting punishment for Lord Lindsey. Maybe for Kristjan as well. Hekon had deemed that Kristjan had not only failed in his duty as a Viking warrior but had also dishonoured their family for not dying in battle, but instead getting caught by the enemy and tortured. _‘What kind of Viking are you! You bring shame on your family and on Odin himself. It were better that you had died’_ His father’s harsh words still stung him. Though he didn’t know why. After all it was true.

 

 

His wedding day was as gloomy as every day had been. His brothers finding the idea of his marriage amusing, even if it were to a Saxon. They stood across the bridge with wicked grins. As Kristjan said the Christian vows to the small but strong woman in front of him. He had expected…. No hoped, that she would change her mind, run away. The sight of her standing in a pale yellow gown filled him with annoyance. Not only because all his hope of avoiding this hell were dashed but also because she looked rather fetching. He remembered her from years before. When they were children. When there was peace. She had been a handful back then. _Would she be so again?_

 

 

The words passing his lips had little meaning to him or his kin. But he spoke them anyway. He took her cold hand in his. It was small and her fingers where slim. He had little sense of her feelings toward the matter. She had not lifted her eye through-out the whole ceremony. Even when taking her vows. Did she remember him as he remembered her? He thought not. He was not the same. His face alone had none of his boyish good looks.

 

 

Dena felt her hand warm beneath his grip. She wanted to pull it away and wipe it on her skirt. But as much as she hated the feel of it, it somehow felt safe. Though she didn’t understand why.

 

 

While both his and the priest words wondered around the open field, trickling along like the river beneath them. Her mind flew away, his hands where moist but they were firm, strong and rough in places. She wanted to look up at him but knew if she did so before the final words she would undoubtedly run from the river at all speed. She spoke her part and heard those around her gasp. Obviously not expecting her to go through with them. She swallowed hard as the final words were spoken.

 

"Kiss your bride." The priest announced with a shameful look and tone.

 

 

Dena and Kristjan could hear the inhale of breath, and they knew they would be follow not by a cheer that was traditional on such occasions but by a gasps of horror.

 

Neither wanted to accommodate the priest, but his low sorrowful voice insisted

 

“You must if the ceremony is to be consider complete."

 

Dena raised her eye to gaze to her new husband, his face was dark and she could see the anger in those blue eyes. The scar clear and red across his face. She watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched, as with a deep breath he brought his mouth down to hers.

 

 

Kristjan had kissed his fair share of girls since he was thirteen but none of them were so cold. It was like kissing a stone, _or a fish_. The kiss was over almost as soon as it began and the predestine gasp of horror and discussed swam around them. Dena backed away and looked over to her father and brother, both of which looked as though they had witness the brutal murder of an innocent virgin. She smiled reassuringly but was met with a sad and lonely one. Antony turned his back and started on the march back to Stamford. And Dena was sure he would never forgive her. He was followed by his friends. The only smile of encouragement and pity she received was from Bessie.

 

 

Kristjan turned in the direction of his own kin and was met with wicked devious smiles and the laughter of his brother. Hekon stepped over the bridge and headed towards the bride's father.

 

"Fuller!" he called. "We are family." his voice was dry and insincere. "You and your family will celebrate with us. - You too priest."

 

Fuller frowned at his daughter’s new father in law. "What about my people." it really didn’t matter about them as they would rather burn in the pits of hell than celebrate Dena betrayal.

 

 

Hekon look at the small crowd, most had already began to head back to Stamford, while others waited to see what excitement was to come.

 

"They can attend; we’ll have the celebrations out here. It‘s a beautiful field.” He waved his hand around the damp grass. Trees shattered about it.

 

 

Fuller looked up at the dark sky as another sharp wind blew past him. He knew that it had more to do with not wanting his people inside the village and nothing to do with the so called beautiful field. But Fuller also knew that to refuse would be seen as a slight and wound doubtless end in a fight. "Thank you, Herre Bohmson." Fuller bowed and then turned to is people to instruct them of the invitation.

 

 

Kristjan held his breath as both Dag and Balder advanced on his bride.

 

"We will kiss the bride." Dag announced with a chilling voice.

 

Dena felt a stain of panic rush her. Was she to be passed around by the brother? She had heard such things of the Danes. She swallowed hard as the horrid form of Dag Hekonson came closer. His red laughing face filled with hate and lust.

 

 

Kristjan watched for a moment. His mind a numb blank chasm. Then the sight of Dena’s fear filled face caught his attention and before he could stop himself he stepped in front of her. Barring her from Dag’s advance. Dag stared up at his brother with a scowl. Kristjan was balancing all his height on his right leg but that didn’t stop him standing straight.

 

"Don’t you dare, Brother?" Kristjan whispered in a harsh ordering tone.

 

Dag narrowed his eye at the man above him. His fist clenching at his side, then he laughed. “As you say, Brother. She’s your wife.” he looked around. "So we’re to break bread with these damn Saxons." Dag announced not caring if Dena heard him or not. He stared at his brother intently

 

"What is going on?" Hekon asked in a deep pitiless voice.

 

"I was just going to keep up tradition by kissing the bride." Dag announced. “But it seems Kristjan is not one for tradition.”

 

Hekon laughed and was about to insist on the tradition when he heard Fuller behind him.

 

 

Hekon knew that the marriage was not fulfilled until Kristjan had taken her to his bed. Until then he need to keep the peace with Fuller.

 

"Maybe that tradition can be broken." Hekon said with an angry voice. "Now let us be on with the celebrations."

 

Dag looked at his father with confusion. After all he hated the Saxons as much as anyone. They had killed his brother.

 

"I was telling Lord Lindsey here that we will celebrated the nuptials in the field where both villages can attend." 

 

With his father’s words Dag understood what he was about, and nodded. "I’ll send Freya and some of the women to fetch the food and mead."

 

Kristjan also understood and looked at his new bride; His father was no fool and knew that either Fuller or Dena could cancel out this marriage at any moment until he had bedded the girl. A thought that both intrigued and terrified him.

                    

 

 

Dena wondered the field of the south bank in search of some place to escape the critical eyes and murmuring lips. She saw a large thick tree trunk, large enough to conceal her from sight, where she could settle behind it for a while and forget everything. She approached it without a care. Behind her stood the villagers, separated into two cold groups. Each sending looks of hate and fury at the other. She reached the tree to the sound of low voices. She recognised them to be Viking in origin and her heart froze. She heard her name mentioned. Stepping softly she hid herself behind the trunk to listen.

 

 

"I expect proof." Hekon’s voice demanded.

 

"I wouldn’t put it past those bastards to pass off a whore for a lady." Dag snapped.

 

Dena froze at the insult and flattened herself against the tree. Holding her breath so as not to be heard. As she listened reality hit her. She would have to share his bed, a man and wife shared a bed. Dena hadn’t allowed herself to think that far ahead. Her heart clenched and her throat tightened. The thought of him lying next to her, atop her. - It made her stomach turn. The feeling reminded her of the time she had woken to find a rat scattering across her chest.

 

"I’ll send Freya in the morning for the sheets." Dag said smugly. "Of course if you’re not up to it." Dag laughed and Hekon joined in.

 

 

Kristjan remained silent and frustrated. Two years ago neither would have gotten away with such a remark. Kristjan’s eyes burned into Dag like fire. It had been over two years since he had the pleasure of a woman’s company. Not since his injuries. After all what woman would want his broken and scarred body anywhere near her.

 

"Kristjan, I think your wife is looking for you." Announced Freya from the in-front of them. The laughter increased as she continued. "I saw her wondering around, looking for something."

 

 

Dena remained concealed behind the tree, shuffling around it as the men appeared from the other side. She watched as Kristjan brushed past his brother with a grown and a limp.

 

"He may be a cripple but he still has his pride." Hekon huffed.

 

"And his strength." Dag growled as he raised his hand to his shoulder where Kristjan had brushed past him with force.

 

 

Dena moulded herself to tree until she was sure the men had gone. Peering her head around the thick wood to see them walking away. She would have to head back to them soon. Back to her husband and soon to her marriage bed. The idea sent a chill through her. As she walked along the grass her mind whirled. _One night._ She thought. _Only one night_. At least that was what she hoped.  She could run away now but then of course there would be bloodshed, not to mention the weight of the King’s threat. She looked around to the village she had come from, then to the village she was going to. It was no use. She was to be a Vikings wife on his majesties order. Dena spotted the crippled stature of her husband, "One night" she whispered to herself before heading into the lion’s den.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Dena sat in the dark room on the fur covered bed. There was a single shaft of light coming through the shuttered window, but it was not bright enough to illuminate either her or her husband. She thanked God for the darkness, knowing what was coming ahead of her, she had no wish to see him during the experience. Kristjan entered with a dragging of his leg. The sound chilling Dena to the bone.

 

 

Kristjan hated standing in that damp cold air. It always caused his leg to stiffen and now all he wanted was to relax on his bed and sleep. But he had one last task, one he would rather forgo. He looked at the still, dark figure on the bed. He had no choice in this matter. He would have to take her, and they would both have to endure the pain and humiliation. _Thank goodness for the dark_. He thought, pulling off his tunic over his head. Dropping the tunic to the floor he dripped his arms into the wash bowl, then flew the water across his face. It was ice cold with help. His mind filled with memories. He used to love the feel of a woman’s curves pressed to his. It was far more enjoyable than any battle. Women were the best thing ever created. Yet now, for the first time he dreaded them. Her. He didn’t want to share his bed…. Or his life. He just wanted to sleep.

 

 

Dena could hear the rushes behind her. She felt every inch of her body freeze, her heart pounded against her ribs and her stomach felt as though she was going to be sick. She settled herself beneath the thick fur that covered the bed. Its smell so awful that it made her forget for a moment. Her mother had explained the marriage bed to her year ago. Before her death. She had told her of the passion and love that would be shared. Dena couldn’t help but think that it depended on the husband. No doubt if she had married Blake it would be the most beautiful and wonderful thing in the world. But she was not married to Blake, she was married to him. A Viking. An enemy.      

 

 

Kristjan slid uneasily into the bed next to his Saxon wife, and felt a ting of satisfaction. If he had been the man he once was he would have enjoyed the seduction of his enemy’s daughter, even revelled in it. But he wasn’t, and testing her virtue was the last thing he wanted. Yet his body warmed. He looked at her in the darkness, he couldn’t see her expression but could sense the fear emulating from her. Kristjan had never felt pity for an enemy but in that moment she wasn’t his enemy, she was his wife. An old friend from his past.

 

 

They lay in silence for long moments, thoughts rushing through their minds. Kristjan knew that if he did not fulfil his duty as a husband, Dag would see to it that he would be the laughing stock of the village. As for Dena she knew that it was her duty and that if she failed she could be sent back to her father in shame and everyone in her home would die at the hands of these barbarians. _Better her virtue than their lives._ She told herself.

 

 

As he felt her shake next to him he repeated to himself. _She's a Saxon, you took an oath._ He had sworn to Odin that he would hate Saxon’s as long as he lived. He’d also sworn that if he ever found the men that had torn his honour from him he’d revenge himself.

 

 

The Silence was deafening and the anticipation painful. _Just do it. Finish this nightmare._ Dena thought, closing her eyes to the darkness. _If we don’t consummate this marriage I will be sent back to Stamford in disgrace and there will be more blood spilled in revenge._ As if reading her mind she heard Kristjan’s voice in her ear. It was deep but strangely soothing. Of course she’d heard him speak his vows but she hadn’t been paying much attention.

 

"We have to..." his voice trailed off. He let out a puff of frustrated air. "Or there’ll be humiliation for us both." His vision was fixed on the ceiling. "And I think I’ve had enough of that for one day." His words were harsh and unfeeling, and any nice momentary thoughts were gone. She nodded against the pillow. As her heart vibrated in her chest and her stomach once more turned with fear.

 

 

Kristjan manoeuvred towards her and she stiffened. With some difficulty he positioned himself above her. Trying not to look into the fear filled face. This was going to be hard enough without the sight of a terrified woman beneath him. His rough hand grabbed at her shift, rising it up high over her buttocks.

 

 

Her heart was crashing against her ribs and she was sure that she would throw up. Her breath filled her lungs but did not release itself.

 

"If you resist, there will be greater pain." He whispered trying to sound both uncaring and sympathetic at the same time. She felt him harden against here and fear tugged tighter at her throat. She turned her face into the pillow and tried desperately to calm herself. A screech of pain escaped her lips as Kristjan thrust into her core. Her breathing increased as with every thrust she bit down on her lower lip. The pain eased a fraction but it was still echoing through her limbs. It was over in minutes, though to Dena it had seemed like hours. Kristjan collapsed next to her, exhaustion calming his body. His leg and side were throbbing. It had not been the most pleasurable experience he’d had. But then those women had being willing and wanting.  He may be out of practise but he would have expected a more enjoyable wedding night. If only he was still the strong, virile and excitable man he had once been. If only his wife was not some cold Saxon virgin. _She has change over the years_. He noted. _She was not always like ice._

 

 

Dena turned on to her side in silence, not even attempting to move her shift. She buried her face deep into the pillow again. She could taste blood. She had bitted into her lip so hard that it had broken skin. But the stinging didn’t matter to her. The pain in her body and heart were worse. This had not been the blissful pleasurable wedding night she had envisioned. Nor was it the man. She closed her eyes tight and prayed that sleep would soon rescue her from her nightmare.

 

 

 

The sun crashed into Dena’s closed eyes like unwanted visitors. She tried desperately to remain asleep but the day would not permit it. Slowly she opened her eyes to find herself in the strange room. "It was not a dream." She whispered disappointedly. With a flick of her heavy head she found she was alone and she breathed a sigh of relieve. Her peace did not last long for in moments of her placing her head back down the door flew uncaringly open. Causing Dena to jump up grabbing the fur that blanketed her.

 

 

In walked a tall thin woman with long blond hair, braided down one shoulder. She was Freya, Dena new sister-in-law. The woman wore a hateful scowl that seemed to be permanent.

 

"A- Aye!" Dena stuttered.

 

Freya stepped into the room and placed her hand on her bony hips, protruding from under her dark dress. "It’s late!" she snapped.

 

Dena took a breath nervously. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise."

 

"Hekon told me to let you sleep after the excitement of last night." She attempted a grin but failed. The half-smile that showed teeth sent a chill down Dena’s spine. "I’ve come for the sheets."

_“I expect proof”_ Hekon’s words echoing in her mind. She swallowed hard and with a blush looked at the blood stained sheets.

 

Freya gripped the edge and in a single motion swiped the sheet clean away from the bed. Dena could see the look of amusement and surprise in her sister-in-laws eyes. It seemed everyone doubted her virtue. Freya grinned again with a tilt of her head she left the room. A sob rose inside Dena as she sat on the naked bed, a fur as her only protection.     

 

 

Freya entered the kitchen with the sheets and a grimly smug smile. Kristjan sat eating his ham and bread as she presented them to his father. Hekon unwrapped the sheet, holding it up to the light. Dag stood and examined them over his father’s shoulder.

 

"Well. - I didn’t think you had it in you!" Dag smirked. "And she was a virgin, who would have guessed."

 

Kristjan felt his back stiffen as Dag slapped him unfeeling on the back. Not caring for any discomfort.

 

"Well boy it seems you’re not as crippled as we thought." Hekon handed the sheets back to Freya with a nod. "Shame it at to be a Saxon that proved it."

 

Kristjan tried to ignore his father’s heartless comments and got painfully to his feet.

 

"Going back to your wife?" Dag laughed.

 

Kristjan shot him a warning look and stumbled from the house.

 

 

The sound of laughter carried up the wooden steps to Dena, who sat motionless on the bed. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from her marriage but the idea of her husband below with his father and brother discussing their wedding night. The idea of them examining her sheet for proof of her virginity made her stomach turn over. How could she face them? Face him?

 

 

The sky was turning a light pink as Kristjan entered the room, he'd spent the whole day away from the village. On his return Freya had remarked that his new bride had not ventured out all day. He was intrigued as to why? Opening the door he found Dena on the bed. - Silently staring out of the window. Still in her shift with only the bed furs for cover. He frowned. She must have been there all day. He didn't know if he should to talk to her. What would he say, if he did? He was her husband. He should tell her that hiding away in the room all day was not acceptable, but he understood. He hid away, and he was a warrior, she was not. _She's a Saxon._ He must keep telling himself that. She was his enemy no matter the vows they had taken. 

 

"The food will be ready soon, I suggest that you dress. Unless you want my brothers and father seeing your naked body." He said with a cold grin.

 

 

The words passed through her as if she wasn’t there. Her mind was a blank and her soul was still and silent. She had sat staring towards the river all day, wishing she was home, under her father’s roof, in safety. Her mind also dwelling on her marriage bed. Was it like that for all new brides. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, the marriage in her mind was to be a one of love, respect and tenderness.

 

 

Slowly the words soaked into her mind, and her body prickled. She glanced over her shoulder, to see Kristjan with his back to her, washing is face and hands. Dena rose from the bed slowly, filled with shame and embarrassment as she realised that she had spent the whole day naked in his room. She dressed quickly in the only gown she had.     Kristjan turned to see Dena standing in her wedding gown and his mouth almost dropped, she looked prettier than the previous day. Her hair was free, her face tight and cold. Yet something about it called to his senses. "Don’t you have another dress?" He asked harshly.

 

She lowered her head. "No. - My father has not sent my things yet."

 

Kristjan frowned but did not question any further, simply walking from the room. Dena reluctantly and nervously following after him.

 

 

Her first meal with her new family was a quiet, anxious one. Everyone looking at her and Kristjan. A soft chuckle escaping for the brother, as she ate. She remembered that Freya had taken the sheets that morning and surmised that Dag and Balder were there to examine them with their father. Her face blazed red with the realisation. Was this to be her life now, sitting and being laughed at. She glanced sideways towards Kristjan. He hung his head over his food.

 

 

Her unease was clear to everyone, which only caused another rouse of hysterics. Her embarrassment was too much and without another word she pushed herself off the bench, and ran upstairs.

 

Kristjan looked about the table. His face as red as hers, but not from embarrassment but anger.

 

 

"That was uncalled for." He noted in a dull voice.

 

"What do you care?" Balder snapped. "Unless you’re softening."

 

Kristjan jumped to his feet, his leg throbbing with the pressure. "Are you questioning my oath!" he yelled, clenching his teeth to the pain, and his fist to the anger.

 

Balder looked at his brother before looking to Dag and his father.

 

Kristjan walked from the table to an air of tension. He knew he was right. That this woman was going to cause more trouble than she was worth. Was he to be spend all his time defending her to his family and community? No! She will defend herself. He may be her husband, but will not be her protector.

 

 

 

__*  *  *__

 

 

 

It had been a month since her wedding and Dena was uncomfortably settling into her new life, not speaking more than necessary, even to her husband. Helping Freya about the house. Though she had seemed to see Dena more as a personal slave, rather than a member of the family. Kristjan was rarely ever seen, vanishing early after breaking his fast and not returning until it was dark. Resulting in Dena eating alone with the family. Having to listen to their crude jokes and their hateful comments. Finding any reason to cause her embarrassment. Dena thought it lucky that he hadn’t insisted on taking her since their wedding night, instead he would slip in next to her and slept.  The heat of his body was the only comfort he gave her as the winter drew close. The cold, dark and long winter seemed to shadow her life. Any happiness had vanished with the last sunlight of summer.

 

 

Dena had not returned to her village since her wedding. Partly through fear, but mainly because Freya was determined to keep her under her thumb, and her control. She knew she would have to venture to her village at some time. She had to attend church. In the month since her marriage she hadn’t seen or spoken to her father or brother. She missed them terribly. She had thought that when she didn’t return on Sunday, that they would come in search, if only to be sure of her safety, but they had stay away.

 

 

On a cold evening Dena fought to stay awake. She had sat through another dinner alone and listened why Dag explained the best way for gutting Saxon’s. Dena had learnt to close out the din of their hard, vulgar voices; the mention of Saxon blood pierced her barrier.

 

 

She listened for the now familiar sound of Kristjan shuffling his way about the room. When he finally entered, Dena remained quiet and still, waiting for him to finish his preparation and climb into bed next to her. The gap between them was wide enough to sail a long boat down. But even with the distance, Kristjan’s constant warmth heated Dena’s cold shivering body.

 

 

"Kristjan." She announced in a whisper. It was a strange sound on her lips. She rarely had occasion to say his name.

 

He felt his chest tighten with the sound. His only reply was a grunt.

 

Dena laid still, not turning to look at him. Keeping her eyes closed to the darkness. "I need to return to my village. - I must attend church."

 

There was a long drawn silence. The bed moved slightly, and Dena’s insides tensed.

 

"And what has that to do with me?" He grunted, his eyes fixed on the bedroom door.

 

"Well…." She paused and opened her eyes, not knowing how he would react to her reply. After all he may be her husband but she knew nothing of him. "Freya….. She keeps me working in the house. I haven’t visited my family since our…… Marriage."

 

 

Kristjan moved uncomfortably in the bed and Dena froze with fear. What was he going to do? She had heard of the Vikings brutal nature and that not even women were immune, would her word send him in to one of those terrifying rages.

 

"Like I said, what is it to do with me?"

 

Dena swallowed and took a deep breath. "I - I hoped you would intervene on my behalf - allow me to return home once a week." She heard his intake of breath and quickly moved on. "It would only be once a week, I would return as soon as it was over. I swear."

 

Kristjan heard the desperation in her voice. The small inkling of pity and guilt, was soon washed away by anger. "If Freya has you working - then I’m sure she need you. If you want to leave, speak to her…. Or _Far_."

 

"But you’re my husband." She reminded him.

 

He flew up in the bed and fear gripped Dena once more. "I am well aware of our relationship. I don’t need reminding."

 

"Of course. - I’m sorry." She whispered, her voice almost braking.

 

 

Kristjan looked over at her and saw her burying her face deep into the pillow. _Crying no doubt._ Kristjan thought. The guilt returned, which only made him angrier. With his anger reaching boiling point the throw back the covers of the bed and swung himself out. Dena felt the bed lighten and the tears stopped. She looked over her shoulder as the door to their room closed on Kristjan’s back. She felt a wave of relieve swim over her, but also one of anger. _It wouldn’t kill him to tell Freya to let me go._ She through feeling distain taking hold. At their first meeting Dena though she saw something in Kristjan - _Honour?_ She had convinced herself that marriage to him would not be so bad. It now seemed that he was no better than the other Vikings. - The men she’d been at war with since her youth.

           

 

 

"I understand you wish to return home?" Said Hekon from the table as Dena appeared early in the morning. Freya had told her to have the fires and food well underway before she woke. Dena would have refuse but she still had the yellowing bruise on her arm the last time she had.

 

 

"Aye. - Sir." Dena replied in a low shaking voice.

 

Hekon gazed at her coldly. His eyes searching for something. Weakness she thought.

 

"Why? - You not happy with my son?"

_No!_ Dena wanted to say. "I wish to attend church Sir…. and maybe visit with my father."

 

"So you can tell him how badly you’ve been treated?" Hekon accused with malice.

 

"No Sir - I…. I have married your son of my own will, on the orders of my King. If I am unhappy then it is a cross I must bear. I will not abandon my husband and promise." The words came flowing from her mouth like a waterfall, and Hekon was a little taken aback by them. _She would have made a good Viking woman._ He thought. _But she isn’t one._

 

Hekon stood from the wooden chair that Dag would usually occupy. Skulking over to her, he lowered his face into hers. She could smell the odour of stale wine and mead, and it almost made her stomach leave her.

 

"Go! - But let me remind you that if you do not return, my men will come to collect you…. And…" Hekon grinned wickedly "Well, this whole marriage would be a waste of all our time. - Do you understand me?"

 

Dena’s eye widened at the implication and she nodded furiously.

 

"Start the fires. Then leave." He said before walking past her.

 

"But…"

 

Hekon froze on the steps looking at her with narrow eyes and a red face.

 

"Sorry Sir, but Freya told me to start the food before she wakes"

 

Hekon thought for a moment. His lips in a thin smile that sent a chill through Dena’s skin. "She doesn’t rule this house yet. Start the fires and leave. I expect to back by sundown." He took a few more steps and paused again. "Oh, - And send my regards to your father." his smile was hateful and Dena knew they was no sentiment beneath the words.

 

"I will Sir. - Thank you."

 

Hekon grunted, marching up the steps.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Dena walked into the village to the slanted and cautionary stares of the occupants. She gazed around her with a soft welcoming smile fixed to her lips. Each good morning was met with a flick of disgust. Her eyes swelled ad her heart broke. When she approached her father’s house she was struck with a deeper fear. Would she be welcome? She had done her duty to her king. But in doing so she had gone against her father. She looked over her shoulder once more before knocking. She saw the whispering scornful women, women who were once her friends. The looks they sent her way were as sharp as daggers.

 

 

Dena hit her knuckles hard on the wooden panels. The force of her panicked hammering sending tingles through her arm. In a short moment that seemed to drag on for eternity the door opened, to reveal a smiling Bessie.

 

“Dena? My dear, how lovely to see you. Come in, it is too cold to stand in doorways.”

 

Dena lowered her head shamefully, feeling the villager’s eyes burning into her back.

 

Bessie closed the door before yelling thought the house. “Fuller! Dena’s here.”

 

 

As Dena stood in the room she was suddenly hit with the sensation of being a stranger in her own home. Nothing had changed, and as far as she could see it was precisely as she had left it. But it felt different. It was no longer her home. Her home was across the river, surrounded by people who hated her. She glazed out of the window, it seem that she was hated here too. The thought sent tears to her eyes.

 

 

“Dena? My darling…..” Fuller announced, rushing down the stairs towards her. “What’s happened?” His voice was filled with panic. He pulled her into his arms. She felt an ease. Peace. At least her father had not abandoned her. He was not going to hold her decision against her all their lives.

 

“Nothing father. I’m quite well.” she smiled warmly.

 

Fuller clung to her upper arms and looked into her face. He was not fooled by her light voice and wide smile. He could see the tears welling in her eyes. “Dena? What’s happened?”

 

“Nothing father, truly.” She couldn’t help but gaze to the window. “I’m here to attend church. I’m sorry I haven’t returned sooner but….” She could hardly tell him that Freya Bohm had been keeping her chained to her house. “I have been settling into my new life.” She smiled.

 

 

Fuller was not convinced but knew his daughter well enough to know she would not tell him anything. “Well. I must say I was wondering why you hadn’t been in church. I do hope you haven’t been seduced by their pagan ways.” Fuller smiled mockingly.

Dena‘s heart lifted at her father’s teasing. “No father. I am a good Christian. I may even convert them.” she laughed. She would have more luck walking on water. “Is Antony around?”

 

“He’s out with Drew.” Bessie replied. “They went out before dawn.”

 

“He’ll be home soon. - How long are you to stay?” Asked Fuller.

 

She looked down in thought. She wanted to stay for ever, but her father-in-law had made it clear that if she didn’t return Stamford would run red with their blood. “Just to attend church father.”

 

“Surely you can stay for something to eat?” Bessie insisted.

 

Dena shook her head slowly. “Not this visit.”

 

 

Dena entered the church of St Martin’s to a wave of turned head’s Dena walked towards the alter, the eyes following her every step. Her nervous breath catching in her chest. Dena took her seat next to her father and Bessie. Who were not blind to the reaction of their neighbours? As Father Robert started to speak the heavy wooden doors opened and closed with a crash. Causing everyone to turn. Dena watched Antony and Drew rush guiltily down the stone towards them. When he saw his sister sat with his father, he paused and Dena saw the anger in his eyes.

 

 

“Gentlemen?” Called Father Robert, tapping his fingers on his bible.

 

“Sorry, Father.” The pair bowed their heads before Antony pushed Drew into one of the pews. The two young men sat two rows back from Dena and she knew that Antony was not going to be as forgiving as her father. Father Robert continued on with his sermon. The Latin calling out around the stones and columns. Dena listened and prayed for forgiveness.

 

 

 

Dena had known she would be an outcast among her husband’s family and the community in which he lived - they lived. But now it seems she was to be an outcast among her own people, her friends, those with whom she'd grown up. Her eyes swelled from the tears, she had not realised the consequences that would come from her actions. Did they not know she had done this to save their homes and their families? She felt betrayed and hurt at their abandonment. She was alone, more alone than she had ever been in her life. Was it the right decision? At the time she believe so. _Now?_ But she had no chose King Edgar had commanded the match and she was a loyal subject.

 

 

She looked about the cold, dark heartless room in which she share her nights with the Viking she called husband. she wished the bed she sat upon, with her knees under her chin like a small child, was her own, under her father’s roof - the bed in which she had spent many a sleepless night with thoughts of Blake. _Blake_. He seem a distant memory now. Although it had been but two months.

 

The tears trailed down her cheeks onto her blue dress covering her knees, her nose becoming blocked and she sniffed. The sobs of pain sounded around the empty room.

 

 

The door open suddenly and Kristjan shuffled in. Looking to Dena who sat curled up on the bed. She rushed to wipe the fragments of tears from her eye and cheek with the back of her sleeve. Swinging her bare feet over the side of the bed, she sat facing the window.

 

"What's wrong?" Kristjan asked his voice husky and flat as always.

 

Dena couldn't reply, knowing that any attempt to speak would result in a wail of emotion and cause her to burst into tears again. She simply shook her head.

 

Kristjan frowned as he looked at her. "You've been crying." he stared at her back, her dark hair a mass of fizz and knots.

 

She had not been quick enough to hide her face and her pain and for a moment she thought there was concern in that foreign tongue, but once again she remained silent. What was he doing home? Why now? Was not enough she had to suffer the scorn of her village but now the shame of him seeing her cry?

 

 

Kristjan continued to frown at her as he headed for the wash bowl. Was that sympathy for his Saxon wife?

 

"Dinner is almost ready, Freya told me to tell you."  He announced as his hand submerged into the cold water. Yet another night with his father, brothers and sister in law. When she married she had expected a home of her own. At lease there she could escape from him - _from them_. She hated that she was residing under his father roof - a house that would one day belong to Dag. She hoped that they would have a home of their own before that day came, for she was sure that Dag and his vixen wife would make their lives hell if they stayed.

 

 

"Are you coming?" Kristjan asked from the door.

 

Dena hadn’t move from her place on the bed in hours; the pain of being an outcast had been too much. She hated everyone. Herself, her husband, and her father - she hated the King. It was all his fault.

 

"No." Dena croaked "I’m staying up here. - I’m not hungry." she lifted her legs up onto the bed and settled down against the mattress.

 

 

Kristjan frowned at her back. He had no idea what he should do. She was his wife and she was hurting, even if she tried to hide it. He had no one to ask advice from, his father would not care and his brothers would use it as a weapon against them.

 

He felt the urge to comfort her, to place his arms around her and stroke her hair. He wanted to tell her that whatever was going on it would be alright. But he couldn’t. He fought it as he left the room. She was his enemy first. He refused to feel anything for his enemy, even if she happened to be his wife.

 

 

Dena lay alone in the dark as she herd the roar of the family in the rooms downstairs. This only helped make her more home sick. She cried out for her family and the comfort of everyone - even Bessie. For the first time since the woman had married her father she wanted to see her - wanted to hear her voice. Dena wanted to go home. But she was home. She had agreed to the marriage against her father’s insistence that she run away - now she would have to suffer the shame, humiliation and hate that surrounded her on both sides of the river.

 

 

 

__*  *  *___

 

 

 

The day was sunny but chilled. The small market filled with people, each taking their fill of the Saxon woman in their mists. Dena had felt the stares the moment she stepped out of the house. Of course it was nothing unusual. They had watched her since her arrival. They had watched her with suspicion and who could blame them. If it had been her village they would treat Kristjan with equally. But that did not make her feel better about their stares. Market day was usually Freya’s job but she insisted that Dena take on the chore. Dena taking over the day to day household work was becoming common place. She was treated more like a servant or slave than a member of the family. Dena was glad of the distraction from her life.

 

 

With her straw weaved basket full she made her way through the market. She had been ordered to buy Loafs, Flour and Grain. All sat waiting in the bright cold sun at the end of the road. A gentle wind blew past Dena, filled the sweet scent of damp leaves. A smell that had been with her since childhood.

 

"And what do you want?" asked a harsh female voice.

 

Dena shock her mind clear "I’m - we need three loafs." Dena replied, smiling welcoming to the tall golden haired woman, at least two years Dena’s senior.”

 

"We don’t have any" the woman snapped.

 

Dena looked calmly around the table to see at least a dozen loaves scattered. "I see." Dena was silent for a moment. Weighting up whether to confront the stranger. If she arrived home without the bread, Freya would kill her - probably literately. "What about those." she pointed.

 

"They’re for someone else." the woman smirked.

 

"Oh - I see." Dena doubted the truth of that statement, but could hardly call the woman a liar in front of a now staring group of women.

 

 

"Don't be such a shrew Thordis. Give her the bread." The soft but determined voice came from behind her.

 

Dena turned to see another red head. Her eyes widened. Why was she helping?

 

"It’s my bread. - I’ll say who I sell it to."

 

The look of defiance burned between the pair. Dena swallowed hard, unsure if she was just a pawn in a game between the women.

 

"Really. I suppose your right. - but I have to say refusing bread to the chieftains table is extremely foolish." the red head remarked.

 

Dena watched in fascination, the tall red head, the fixed expression of satisfaction plastered to her features.

 

"Fine! Here!" Thordis threw the three loaves at the pair "Take them! - I won’t have you stirring trouble with Hekon about me."

 

Dena gathered the loaves into her arms "Thank you."

 

"Just get away from me - Saxon."

 

Dena lowered her head and walked away, she looked back for a second only to see the red head following her.

 

 

"I’m Kelda Reynardor." the woman said taking the loaves from Dena’s filled arms. "I’m Balder's betrothed."

 

"What?"

 

Kelda rose her eyebrows "Is that so strange? Do you not think I’m a fit wife for the son of a chieftain?" Kelda teased.

 

"No. - No. I - I just didn’t know he was betrothed. I haven’t seen you at the house - or at my….." Dena looked at the ground.

 

"Your wedding. No, sorry. I had to travel south with family. And I was only jesting about my suitability for Balder. You wouldn’t be the only one to think we're a strange match. But underneath he’s not so bad."

_Really - you obviously haven’t seen him in the harsh light of day._ Dena thought. "I’m sure."

 

"Ok. - Maybe he is. - But it's his brother Dag that’s the real trouble. Balder was a real softy when he was younger. But then Dag got to him. I feel for Roydan, if only Kristjan hadn't have…." Kelda looked away for a moment "Well you know. Kristjan was the only person who could or would stand up to Dag. And if you ask me, the only one Dag was scared of."

 

"Really." that was news to her. From what she had seen it was the other way around. Kristjan was the one with the fear.

 

 

 

Kristjan had seen the whole incident from the corner of a building. He watch, unwilling to do anything as Thordis, humiliated Dena, publicly. Would he have let it continue if Kelda had have turned up? The truth was he didn’t know. All he did know was that wasn’t the end. Thordis had a bitter, spiteful streak a mile wide. Kristjan had seen it in action. In hindsight he could not think why he ever loved her. But he had, though she hadn’t seen him in the same way. She was the only woman in the village who didn’t fall for his charms. That had made her even more appealing.

 

 

He watched as Kelda and Dena left together, heading back home. Something in him moved. A voice at the back of his mind said thank you to Kelda for the rescue. For doing the one thing he was too ashamed to do himself. The one thing that was his duty.

 

           

 

Dag sat at the head of the table with an imperial look about him. Dena still couldn’t quite understand why Hekon Bohmson allowed his son to believe in his own self-importance. Dag barked orders to everyone, treating them like they were his own personal slaves. Dena filled the bowl as her mind questioned. She almost felt sorry for Freya, being married to such a beast. But then again Freya was hardly an angel herself. Hekon sat at the other end of the table facing Dag. She’d guessed that as the eldest son Hekon allowed Dag free reign, knowing that with his death Dag would take his place as head of the family, possible as chieftain of the village. _These Vikings seemed determined to keep their old ways, even in their new home._ Dena thought.

 

 

She fear Hekon’s death, almost as much as she feared her own fathers, but for entirely different reasons. With Hekon gone and Dag in control she knew he would make her life a living hell. He was already making it hard. With the snide and degrading comments to her and the constant digging at Kristjan, trying to goad him into a fight that he could never win. Dena guessed it had something to do with the upper hand he now had over Kristjan. Kelda had told her that Kristjan was once the strongest, so strong that even Dag feared him. It was no wonder that now Dag was the strong of the two, he made Kristjan pay from the years of humiliation.

 

 

Dena stood filling the small bowls with stew and turned to head for the table. The stew was hot, the heat burning the palms of her hands. She was glad the table was only a few steps away. Her approach was steady but it was not to remain so, as Dena felt her toe stub something beneath her slipper. She tried to balance herself. She failed; the hot food flew forward, colliding with Dag’s lap.

 

 

"Damn Whore!!" he yelled, leaping to his feet. His hand hovered over Dena’s head.

 

Her eyes were wide with fear as she anticipated the hand impacting with her. Her heart hammered beneath her breast and her throat tightened. Suddenly a set of long hard fingers wrapped around Dag's wrist.

 

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

 

It was Kristjan and a mixture of relief and anxiety stirred inside her.

 

"The BITCH spilt my dinner!" Dag shouted, attempting to pull his arm from Kristjan's grip.

"Oh - And you were going to beat some sense into her?"

 

Dena watched in silent amazement as Dag tugged at his arm to no avail. Dag laughed as his eyes locked with his brothers.

 

"NEVER, raise a hand to my wife. - Clear!"

 

Dena felt something raising insider her, not only the relief but - she almost liked her husband.

 

 

"Wife?" Dag chuckled coldly. "That Saxon. - from what I can hear, she's not much of a wife." He grinned, looking at Dena. Her face turning a bright shade of red. Noting that Dag and Freya's room was directly next to theirs.

 

Kristjan released his brother's arm. "Just because you treat your wife like a whore does not mean we all need to. - Then again I've always had a better understanding of women." Kristjan grinned, looking past Dag to Freya.

 

Dena swallowed hard and felt a strange pain in her chest, knowing what the look between Kristjan and Freya meant. She gasped as Dag’s fist flew for her husband’s face.

 

 

"The only whore here, is that one." Freya cried from the hearth.

 

Kristjan's large hand gripped the folded tendons and knuckles of Dag‘s flying fist. Squeezing them hard while looking at Freya, then to Dag, then to his father, who sat in silence at the end of the table. Amused by the display unfolding in front of him.

 

"Ay! - But you made me marry her, remember. None of this was of my choosing."

 

With those words any pleasant thoughts Dena had of her husband flew from her mind. Kristjan tightened his grip on Dag's fist and everyone could hear the sound of bone scratching bone. He may be a cripple but his hands were still strong.

 

"She's my wife Dag." Kristjan snapped. "If you have a problem come to me. But!" His voice became harder. "Never raise a hand to her again - Understood!" 

 

Dag sent Kristjan an almost defiant look, causing Kristjan to increase the pressure and add "I may be a cripple brother, but don't test me!"

 

He released the swelling red fist but didn't move. Staring straight into Dag.

 

 

The atmosphere became suffocating as everyone stared at the face-off between the brothers. From nowhere Dena felt Kristjan's hand on hers, leading her round the table and to the stairs in silence. Dena could feel the eyes on them. She knew someone was going to pay for this humiliation and she knew it was most likely to be her.

 

 

"I’m sorry." Dena said, her voice still shaking.

 

Kristjan sat on the edge of the bed in silence. He had done something he had sworn he wouldn’t do. He’d defended her. Dag was never going to let him forget it. So much for the vow he’d made to Odin. "It’s fine." he snapped quietly. He didn’t move or speak for several minutes and Dena felt uncomfortable. She didn’t know what he was expecting from her, did he want her to couple with him again, as a thank you for his rescue. Her heart pounded and thrashed in her chest.

 

"I’m going out. I suggest you stay up here. If you want something to eat you might be better waiting for everyone to go to bed." Kristjan staggered to his feet, then to the door. Leaving Dena alone with her confused thoughts and feelings.

 

 

 

__*  *  *__

 

 

"Father Roberts’s service was beautiful." Dena remarked, taking her seat at her father’s table.

 

"Aye - much better than last year." Bessie replied setting a bowl of strew on the oaken service.

 

"Where is Antony?" Dena couldn’t help but see the look that passed between the pair. "He’s staying away because of me? I thought he may have forgiven me by now."

 

"This is ridiculous….." Fuller pushed himself up from the table violently. He stormed from the house like a winter wind, slamming the door.

 

Dena knew where he was going, and she knew what would come of it. At best there would be an uncomfortable meal filled with anger and resentment. At worst Antony would make a public scene, calling their father a traitor for welcoming her into his house.

 

 

In a few minutes Dena's father marched back into the house followed sheepishly by her brother. He gave her the look she was expecting, as if she’d insisted on his attendance. It pulled at her heart to have her brother sending such hate towards her. There had as close as all brothers and sister, but when it came to it either would walk over hot coals for the other. Antony slammed the door and threw himself into his chair like a petulant child. Dena swallowed hard, waiting for her father to give thanks over the food.  She could feel the burning eyes across her face. Antony was not going to forgive so easily.

 

 

There was a strained, hard, foreboding silence around the table, as Dena knew there would be. Antony hated to be told what to do - ever since he was a child. Now there father was making him sit at the same table as a traitor. She felt the heart arching, as it broke. Antony’s fury pouring out of his eyes and across to her.

 

 

"So he let you away then?" Antony snapped with a voice of distain.

 

Dena looked up at him, her heart pounding.  "Pardon."

 

"Well for what I hear of those barbarians, they keep their women either tied to the bed or to the cooking fire." he snorted.

 

"Antony!" Fuller snapped, looking apologetically at his daughter.

 

"What? We all know their violent brutes, which beat their women." Antony remarked definitely.

 

Dena swallowed her food. "Kristjan isn’t like that…" she found herself saying.

 

"Oh really. Well he wouldn’t be, would he, and probably can’t even kick a dog let alone his wife." Antony chuckled heartily and Dena could smell the ale on his breath.

 

She closed her eyes and sighed. Antony was a terrible drunk, never knowing when to quit.

 

"I’m surprised you even made it past the wedding night. Still turns my stomach to think of you with him."

 

Dena remained quiet. The best way to silence her brother was to ignore him.

 

"Well! You’re not going to defend your loving husband to me. - Sister!"

 

She still remained silent. Eating her food she waited for the next barb.

 

"Damn cripple. Tell me has he let his brothers have a turn at you yet? I hear it’s what his kind do.”

 

That was the final straw, his father flew up from his seat. "Antony! Shut up! You not too old for a beating, and I’m not too old to give you one." Fuller’s voice was now as furious as Antony’s had been when he’d arrived home. Dena could see the look of molten fire in his eyes. She looked sorrowfully to her brother, he had over stepped the mark and he knew it.

Dena flew up for her seat "Father, please. It is alright, He’s drunk."

 

She saw the annoyance in Antony’s eyes.

 

"I think I should be leaving anyway."

 

"That’s a good idea. Run back to your Viking. Dena Hekonson! I’m sure he wants you."

 

Dena headed for the door "I’m sorry father. I will see you again soon. Bessie - Antony. May God keep you well?"

 

Before Dena had taken a few steps she heard a crash and raised voices from inside the house. Her father punishing Antony. It had not been the first time, even at the age of twenty. His father was still able and willing to teach him a lesson in manners. But for the first time in their lives she had been the cause of their fight.

 

 

 

Kristjan sat in his usual place by the river. It was peaceful there, away from the madness of his life, his family - his wife. Since the encounter with Dag almost a month ago, the house had been strained. Dag took every chance to goad Kristjan into another outburst but avoiding the once thing that even Kristjan was sure would make him act, attacking Dena. As for his wife, the pair had hardily spoken since that evening. Which was nothing unusual as they had barely spoken since their wedding day? However it felt different. Something was nagging at him and it wasn’t his brother.

 

 

Kristjan had lain in bed at night wondering. Why she ever agreed to the marriage. It was clear that neither her father, brother nor the residents of Stamford wanted it. He suspected the reason, a broken heart. He’d seen the deep hurt in her eyes the days she agreed to the match - though he ignored it at the time. Not wanting to think about her. He didn’t care then that some man had broken her heart. Did he care now? No! It’s curiosity, that’s all.

He stared across the water to Stamford, she was over there. They may not have been speaking in the general but she was kind enough to inform him of her intentions for the day. ‘It’s the harvest festival’ she’d explained before rushing off with a single round loaf.

 

 

Kristjan found himself wondering what they do for their harvests. He’d never been to a Christian festival before. He’d never even stepped foot in a church.  What did Dena think of their festivals? She’d attend Mabon but that was barely a festival. How would she respond to The Festival of Winter nights? That would be the test, being a five day gathering, filled with food, mead, celebration and reflection. It was the wildest night in the calendar. Many of the children of the village had been conceived over those five nights, including Roydan. Kristjan found himself smiling at the idea of Dena joining the festivities.

 

"Kristjan?"

 

He turned with a start to see Dena stood behind him a look of wonder on her face.

 

"Are you waiting for me?" her voice was low.

 

He could see the tears in her eyes again. Why was it that every time she revisited her home she returned in tears? _What did they do to her over there? They call us the barbarians._ He thought with anger filling his chest. Her felt his hand uncontrollably tightening around his walking staff.

 

"You’ve been crying again."

 

Dena was surprised he noticed. She’d stopped sobbing at the bridge, not wanting to return to the house in tears and give Dag his perverse pleasure of seeing her in pain. "It’s nothing."

He looked into her face "You always say that. Did something happen?"

 

Dena face opened up with surprise. Did he really care? She doubted it but for some reason the explanation rolled from her tongue. "I had a fight with my brother. He’s still angry about our…." she paused, almost chocking on the word. "Marriage."

 

Kristjan nodded, "I understand. My family haven’t been exactly supportive."

 

"Well - no one wanted it. We were all forced. - One way or another." she remarked.

 

What did she mean? He wondered. He didn't think her father forced her into it. Was it the broken heart? "The King wanted it!" was all he could think of to say.

 

Dena nodded in agreement. "So why are you here? Are you sure you weren’t waiting for me?"

 

"I sure. - I come here to get away from the village and the family and…"

 

"Me" she interrupted.

 

 

Kristjan stared at her. What must she think of him? Why did he care? She’d just said herself that neither of them wanted the marriage, so what did it matter if he hid away from her. There was a sorrowful smile pulling at her lips. He realised he hadn’t really looked at his wife. She was quite pretty in her own way, the wind blew at her auburn hair and his hands felt a little moist. He shook it off.

 

"We should get back."

 

"Of course. Freya probably has a meal waiting for me to prepare."

 

Kristjan tried not to look at her as they headed off. Dena kept pace with him in silence. He had no idea why. She could be back home within minutes if she went at her own speed.

 

"You shouldn’t let your brother upset you."

 

Dena looked at him with a sideways glance

 

"I mean, we can’t change anything. Letting him upset you won’t make you happy."

 

"Happy?" she was surprised at the choice of words. Would she ever be happy? Married to a man she rarely talks to, who hates the very sight of her.

 

The pair continued the rest of the way in silence. Entering the house together to the pleasant surprise of Kelda. Who greeted them with a smile? Causing them to suddenly feel self-conscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Festival Of Winternights  
> Remembrance of the dead and one's ancestors were made during this festival. Winternights was a ceremony of wild abandonment; much like the carnival season in the Mediterranean counties. It marks the end of the summer season of commerce and travel. The being of the winter hunting season. Much divination was done at this time. Winternights divination foretells the fates of those entering the coming year. It was said that if one sat on a barrow mound (Grave) all night long on winternights, one would have a full divination. Shamanic (Galdr & Seith) , and Bardie (Skaldr) powers  
> that is if one retained ones sanity.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Dena appeared at the stairs to a fuss of activity. The day was cold but the heat from the heath made it almost feel like summer. She watched as Freya and Kelda hurried around the kitchen. Large loaves of bread scattered around the long table. The odour the only pleasant thing in the house.

 

"What you just standing there for…… get down here and help us." Freya commanded her tone harsher than normal.

 

"What?" Dena rushed down the remaining steps at the glare Freya sent her.

 

Taking the dough in her hand, she smiled to Kelda.

 

"It‘s the Winternights festival tonight." Kelda explained, as she battered the dough.

 

"What’s Winternights?" Dena asked with a frown.

 

 

The huff of disapproval from Freya was clear to hear. Kelda rolled her eyes as she hammered the dough. "It’s one of our most important festivals, a five day celebration of life and our ancestors."

 

Dena could tell that her friend was excited. "Five days? What do you do?"

 

"WE!" snapped Freya, in an attempt to enforce Dena’s place in the community.

 

"What do _we_ do?" Dena rephrased, with a smile and a hard punch to the dough.

 

Kelda forced back a laugh as she continued. "It marks the end of the summer; we eat, drink and dance. Nights of wild abandonment." Kelda giggled with a cheeky smile. "The village gathers in the great hall for the celebrations."

 

"Oh." Dena didn’t like the sound of _‘wild abandonment’_. Her husband’s brothers were already wild enough. "So this is all for the meal?" she asked

 

"Meal’s! Five days. Of food and drink. The men are out right now hunting for boar." Freya snapped.

 

 

"The festivities start tonight. They end with a great bonfire, where Anselma will do her thing."

 

"Her thing? What thing?"

 

"Anselma does her divination….."

 

"She reads the Runes and tells us what trouble is to come in the year ahead." Freya interrupted, with a look of annoyance and anger.

 

"Really…" Dena was surprised, in her village, a woman who could tell the future would be burned. Not that Dena believed in such things. "Did she warn you about me?" Dena smirked.

Freya’s eyes narrowed "If only she had." she mumbled.

 

 

 

Dena stood in the bright torch filled hall, surrounded by the entire village. Feeling very much the outsider, which of course she was. Standing as far to the back as she could, watching the festivities. She’d remained in the same small corner for the past three nights. The wild attitude of the community unsettled her; it was everything her good Christian upbringing had warned her against.

 

 The air smell of mead, roast boar and bread and the smells playing on her tongue. On this the penultimate night of the Festival, she was becoming accustom to it all. The celebrations seemed endless. Dena wished she could retire to her room and sleep through it.

 

 

"Dena!" called Kelda from a far table where she sat with Balder.

 

The young girl excused herself much to her betrotheds annoyance and rush over to her "Are you well? - You should come sit at the table. Enjoy the food and drink." she smiled widely.

 

"I'm fine here away from the noise, I am not used to such..." she looked around her, attempting to find the right words "Revelry."

 

Kelda laughed lightly and placed a hand on her arm "You will."

 

 

"I was thinking that I might take Kristjan to my bed to night." announced the unmistakable voice of Thordis, as she spoke loudly to her companions. Kelda sent her a stern look.

 

"Oh sorry." she said unconvincingly, with a spiteful smile. "I didn't see you there."

 

Dena remained silent not wanting to be draw into a confrontation.

 

"You’re a fool if you think Kristjan will even look at you after the way you treated him." Kelda snapped defensively.

 

Thordis returned a scornful look. "Well - that was before, now, I’ll make for a distraction from his virgin wife." she smirked.

 

Dena turned slowly and calmly. "I'm no virgin."

 

"Really, you may as well be from what I’ve heard."

 

Dena sent a look towards the head table where the family sat. _Freya! That woman can't ever keep to herself._ Dena didn't reply. But Thordis was determined to provoke her. Stepping close she lowered her voice. "I'm sure I could show your husband a satisfying time."

 

Kelda who stood close to Dena heard the word and grabbed at the woman’s arm. Although only just seventeen summers she was as tall and twice as strong. "You had your chance, back away."

 

Thordis snarled at the obstinate of the youth and snatch away her arm. "I telling you if I offered. - he'd take."

 

 

Dena had never been one to turn down a challenge and stepping to the side she rose her arm. "Be my guest."

 

The surprise was clear on their face and Dena tilted her head. "Well, if you so sure that there is nothing between me and my husband - and that he would take you - please I insist."

 

Thordis regarded the challenge and for her own honour had to except it. She lifted her head, expelled her bosom and marched past Dena toward Kristjan.

           

 

"Dena? - What?" Kelda was in complete amazement but Dena remained silent as she began to play with the small gold band on her finger.

 

Would she regret the challenge? Would Kristjan take Thordis to his bed? She didn't know but she knew that this was the only way to stop Thordis's constant sniping.

 

 

Kristjan watched as Thordis marched determinedly towards him. How he wished she would leave him be. It was strange that not six months ago he was pining for her. Wishing she would come to him - yet now he wanted her to vanish from his sight. What had changed?

 

 

The tall blonde place her firm bottom on the table near his arm. She smiled seductively at him and Kristjan remembered when he would have walked through fire to see that smile, why now did it do nothing for him?

 

"Aye?" he smiled, hoping not to draw attention.

 

"So my dearest, how do you fair?" she spoke softly and huskily. Her seductive smile fixed to her lips.

 

He looked up at her with confusion. "Well, and you?"

 

"It's been cold these nights."

 

Kristjan was alert to her words and their meaning. "It's the coming winter Thordis."

 

She lowered herself to him, be sure that her apt bosom was revealing its cleavage. "I would that I had someone to keep me warm."

 

Kristjan looked up at her. "I'm married Thordis."

 

She laughed lightly. "Are you really? - does that small Saxon fill your needs?"

 

His look was sharp and angry but Thordis ignored it. "I hear that you haven't been with the woman since your wedding night."

 

His eyes shot down the table to his brother and his wife.

 

"Come Kristjan, we all know that this marriage is not real. It is merely to keep the peace." her hand settled on his firm thigh and squeezed in an attempt to seduce him.

 

Kristjan stared over to his wife, standing with Kelda watching the exhibition. Her hands placed in front of her. "What changed your mind Thordis - did you not wish for a warrior husband."

She smiled as her pout lips brushed the side of his face.

 

 

Not even with all the torches in the great hall could Dena see Kristjan's eyes. Had she been foolish to send Thordis to her husband? As he watched her, transfixed as he smiled and looked at her. Was he looking at her? Or simply just keeping his head still while Thordis caressed his cheek with her lips. As Thordis lips rose to his ear, a white hot flame exploded inside Dena - propelling her forward. As if spirits had control of her body, she marched to the table, eyes turning to watch her. She stopped behind Thordis, who with a smug grin turned to look at her. Without a word Dena marched past her. Taking Kristjan's face in her hands, she kissed him.

 

 

Kristjan gently pulled her down onto his lap and held her. Her lips were frozen and he sensed that she had no idea how to continue. Or even if she should. Kristjan caressed her lips with his and eased her into a deep sensual kiss. Dena's lips swelled under his pressure as her heart pounded inside her. She had no thought - her instinct taking hold. His tongue sliced across her lips forcing them to part, entering. She could taste his meal and mead. As his kiss altered from gentle to passionate she found herself relaxing into his embrace. Her hand slid from his cheeks to the nape of his neck and into his hair.

 

 

She felt a burning permeate from Kristjan's left hand as it rested on her thigh, scorching through the thick woollen dress. Kristjan's free hand rose to her hair, wishing it was lose instead on the two tight braided that was the fashion of the village. His fingers stroked the smooth flesh of her neck, causing goose bumps all over Dena. Their bodies burning with arousal, while everything around them vanished.

 

 

Dena slowly became aware that Kristjan's hand wasn't the only burning sensation, as she felt the eyes of everyone in the hall looking at her. She didn't quite understand why, in the last twenty four hours she had seen her far share of displays, some of which between people who had no right to be doing so. - Kristjan was at least her husband, and yet everybody stared. The sensation was too much and she pushed herself away from him. Staring for a second into his aqua blue eyes.

 

 

Her lips were red; Kristjan could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Oh that they were alone. Dena jumped from his lap with speed and force causing him to flinch with pain. His leg beginning to throb.

 

"Sorry." She whispered before turning around to face the prying eyes. Kristjan saw her face glowing red and tugged at her arm. "Sit down and eat."

 

Nervously she took a seat as slowly people began to return to their food, drink and entertainment.

 

Dena couldn't help but look around for Thordis, but found her vanished.

 

 

Dena and Kristjan lay uncomfortably in their bed, nervous as the events of the night revolved around their head. With their back to each other they had not spoken a word since the kiss. Dena still could not believe she had acted so ... so wantonly. What had she been thinking? But of cause she hadn't been, that was the point. They closed their eyes to sleep but at every little motion they were awake and wary, partly hoping that the other would say or do something, while being relieved that they did not. For a long while they lay curled up on their separate side of the small bed, trying not to touch, until eventually sleep clamed them.

 

 

Kristjan woke the next morning to find Dena close next to him, her feet wrapped in his for warmth. He pulled back the furs wide so as to swing his legs free of the bed, and found that Dena's shift had risen above her waist, with the motion of sleep. He stared at the bare thighs and buttock.

 

Their pale cream skin. His heart hammered in his chest and radiated down his body. Stretching out his hand he ran his rough fingers tenderly down the flesh. Feeling it sending tingles along his tendons. He had an urge to bend and kiss. But as she squirmed in the bed he returned the furs coverings and hobbled to the wash bowl, his arousal clear to see.

 

 

Dena woke with a smile at the remnants of her dream swimming around her mind, in which Kristjan had kissed her, touched her and loved her. As the sun shone through the window Dena became aware that it had only been a dream.

 

 

Dena entered the kitchen to break her fast to find the usual sight of a crowned table. Kristjan sat eating his food. Dena gave him a look, a smile concealed within it; his gaze flew away sharply, turning to stare out of the small window. Dena felt a harsh stretching sensation in her chest and a lump in her throat. Taking a seat opposite him she could feel that families eyes upon her. At that moment she gave up caring what was going to be said, or what they thought of her. She just wished that Kristjan would speak to her, turn and smile at her. But why would he? Their marriage meant nothing, it was a sham to keep peace, and it had been ordered by the King. Her eyes began to prickle but she would not cry. - She hadn't cried over Blake’s abandonment and she had loved him. She would not cry over a man who meant nothing to her.

 

 

The flames lifted high into the black autumn sky on the final night of Winternights. Dena's mind was still in turmoil over the previous night’s events and had been all day. Her memories of how her body had swelled at the touch of his lips and hands. She sat alone as she often did, on a fallen trunk, watching everyone around her, enjoying the warmth of the fire in the cold evening.  Across the growing flames she watched Kristjan, alone. Why had he decide to sit so far away from her? He had kept his distance, but of cause he always did, why would that night to be any different. The only time he ever even looked at her was when he was defending her from Dag, Freya or Thordis. _Which seems all the time?_ She followed his gaze towards the stars above them. For a moment transfixed is their beauty, before looking back to him. His face seemed changed. - _It's just the light_ she told herself.

 

 

Kristjan's face was almost as hot as when the iron rod had been pressed to his skin, but he did not move. The sound of singing around him, Winternights was his most loves festival. - A time to remember his friend that had died at the hands of the Saxon's, remember his mother. He missed her so, her long red hair. She had been taken by his father on his attack across the Scottish boarder. He loves the wild hunt too. Although he had not persisted this year, not with his body a broken form of his former self. Stop him doing so many things he had enjoyed, he could not chase Thordis round the fire as many men did, he had not been able to dance and fight with the men as the mead took control of their bodies. He could only sit, drink and watch. His gaze was drawn across the expanse that separated him from his wife. The glow reflected off her pale skin, enhancing her small pouted mouth, her high cheek bones and her dark eyes. The flames lighting the stray strands of dark hair that flew about her in the wind. His eye returned to her lips, shining gold in the firelight, those lips that had so surprised him as they bonded with his the previous evening. He knows that she only kissed him in defence of Thordis's content mocking. Freya had told Thordis about Dena's lack of wifely responsibilities, and Thordis had offered to pleasure him herself. Dena had kissed him in self-defence, not because she wanted him. But that didn't stop his body reacting to her lips, the taste of her, and the feel of her hands on his face. It must have been a horrid moment for her - but he understood why she did it. Dena's head turned to look at him and he turned away sharply. Returning his vision to the sky and pondered his life. What had he done to make Norma punish him so, first by taking away his honour and dignity then by sending him a wife he could not love? He should not love, she was Saxon, and the spawn of his enemy, and he kept telling himself. _Why?_ What crime had he committed to have Odin treat him so? He's gaze was once more drawn back to her as she watched the stars, his heart jumped as a scream echoed around him.

 

 

Dena turned towards the scream to see a young man chasing a pretty girl a few years younger than him. She smiled as a memory of being chased by a young man when she was the tender age of seven. It was the vaguest of memories, the image of a tall, blond boy of thirteen summers. It is a far cry now from those peaceful innocent days. Then the two villages lived in peace. No one could remembered what started the war; it just seemed endless, until now - until her marriage. She glanced back to Kristjan who was drink. If there had still been peace would she have married Blake? She shook her head, of course she would have - he was the man she loved. But he did not love her. Whether war or peace she would have still been heartbroken. Only she would be alone.

 

 

"Dena?" Kelda announced as she took a seat next to her. "Here I brought you some warm mead."

 

"Thank you." Dena smiled taking the warm goblet from her friend.

 

"Are you alright?" Kelda inquired looking towards Kristjan.

 

Dena nodded as she took a long pleasing gulp.

 

 

Kelda had spent the past few moments watching the pair. Their sly looks, their thoughtful stares. Each looking away as the other turned. The picture made her smile. "You know my mother had a saying - precious things come from empty hands."

Dena looked up at her with a confused frown.

 

"I know - I didn't understand it either." Kelda's smile was full and welcoming. "I think I understand now. - I think she meant that someone can give love without even knowing or wanting to."

 

Dena continued to frown. "Really" she said, not convinced by Kelda's interpretation.

 

Kelda looked across to her soon to be brother in law "It's a good thing he married you."

 

Dena followed her gaze across the flames. "I don't think so. He rarely speaks to me, and when he does it's to remind me that he doesn't want to be married to me. Reminding me that his father forced him."

 

"I'm sure he doesn't mean it harshly, Dena. It's just..... Ever since the attack, he's spent much of his time alone by the river, probably because of his father and brothers. They constantly berate him."

 

"I know. - Dag's always trying to get him to fight. But is that really any reason to take it out on me. I didn't want to marry him any more than he wanted to marry me. Why is he so cold?"

 

"Dena, it’s hard for him, a warrior like Kristjan, strong and noble should die in battle. A warrior should never be captured, let alone return broken and beaten by his enemy. Hekon swore he would never accept him back into the family. In fact Hekon ordered him from the village. He was living in a small shack by the river, until...."

 

"But we live..."

 

"The only reason is because of you..... Hekon can't afford to offend your King. Making Kristjan marry you was his way of punishing both your family and Kristjan." Kelda voice was full of guilt, as if she was responsible.

 

 

Dena felt her eyes swell with tears but blinked them back. She broke her gaze from Kristjan. Her face feeling increasingly hot. "So his family agreed to the marriage to punish him? But he was not responsible for what happened." Dena whispered.

 

Kelda took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder to Dag and his father. "I know, but you have to understand something about us Dena, our men are proud and these ways have existed forever. We believe that only a strong, honourable and fierce warrior will reach Valhalla, and to a man that is everything."

 

"But to turn on your own kin - your own son, there is no honour in that." she snapped, growing angry at the way her husband had been treated.

 

 

Kelda smiled understandingly at her. "But things are different, since you've arrived. Defending you has given him back his strength."

 

Dena shot her a look of embarrassed anger. "I didn't ask him to."

 

"You’re his wife... What is he supposed to do?"

 

"Exactly - he sees it as his duty. You said it yourself, honour and duty are very important to your people. And even if his family have disowned him, Kristjan is still a Viking."

Kelda watched in satisfaction as Dena defended her husband to her before letting out a small but hearty laugh. "And you’re a Saxon, Dena....trust me even his Viking honour wouldn't persuade him to defend you. He hates Saxon's, as I’m sure you know by now." she looked once more to Kristjan "After the attack, he made an oath to Odin and the Valkyrie, to revenge himself. He swore to hate all your people, for all his life. - So believe me Dena, his feelings are strong. Very strong. Because he wouldn't break his oath. - He would have let Dag beat you." she smiled, her teeth glowing white in the firelight.

 

 

Dena's heart pounded against her ribs with fear. Although she didn't understand why. If Kristjan had feelings for her she should be happy. Most women would be lucky if their husbands had even a passing liking for them. "Are you saying that he loves me?" but the problem was her.... she was in love with Blake, the man who had abandoned her and left her alone with a broken heart. Marrying Kristjan was one thing but loving Kristjan....No. - She couldn't love him. She fought against the urge to look at him. Instead she stared into the fire. "He loves me about as much as I love him." she replied

 

Trying to convince Kelda as much as herself.

 

Kelda laughed once more. "You’re lucky Dena..... Not only do you have a husband who'll defend you. But one that love you enough to break an oath to his god. I believe even in your religion braking an oath to your God is bad."

 

"Aye, you’ll end up in the fires of hell." Dena whispered.

 

"Oh. - What I wouldn't give for a husband who'll risk....." she shook her head in wonder.

 

"You have Balder"

 

"Balder? .... Balder wouldn't walk through the rain for me let alone fire." Kelda looked over at her betrothed. "Not that I have a care. Do I look as though I need a man to defend me?"

 

Dena shook her head with a smile. "No - but it doesn't stop Roydan trying."

 

The pair gazed over at the bewildered youth watching them from a distance. They exchanged looks before exploding into roars of laugher.

 

 

The sound of their laugher called out to Kristjan across the flames. He watched his wife, realizing that he'd never seen her laugh - in fact he could not even remember seeing her smile. It was the sweetest sound. And his heart pulsated and skipping a beat. He watched her face light up, and it made his body ache. What was going on with him, he tried desperately to remind himself that she was the daughter of his enemy and she always would be, no matter how much he...... 

 

"Kelda" yelled Balder.

 

Kristjan watched as reluctantly Kelda left her friend. Her face still aglow with laugher. Dena was alone again, staring into the fire, then up to the skies. What was going through her mind? Her face was bright, a smile still fixed to her lips. Kristjan felt his body heating, but not from her fire in front of him. Your enemy, your enemy! He repeated, but his body burned. He lifted to his feet with a shock of pain. He didn't know what he was going to say, all he knew was he need to be near her. He imagined that by the end of the night he'd have her beneath him.

 

 

"Dena? Do you want to...?" Roydan asked shyly.

 

Dena stared up at him. Her surprise was clear. No one but Kelda real spoke to her, and now Roydan stood asking her to dance with him. She looked around at the villager, who seemed too caught up in their own enjoyment to care about hers. She turned to see Kristjan standing not a few feet off, watching her. A look of warning in his eye, though she had no idea if he was warning her or Roydan.

 

"I - I don't think..." she stared across to his father and Dag, who both watched, intrigued.

 

"Come on. - Don't worry about them." Roydan didn't give her any chance to refuse. He held her hand, pulling her into the field with the music.

 

 

Kristjan stared. The burning in his body had moved to his heart as he watched his wife enjoying the evening with his brother. Kristjan knew it should have been him there. Telling her not to mind the staring eyes. Making her laugh and dancing with her. What was wrong with him? He always though that he would make a perfect husband. He’d been kind, caring and loving to the women he'd know. But with Dena he could not seem to see past her blood. He watched her laugh again, smile. It was all too much, he could take anymore. Turning on his heels. He hobbled off towards the river. Towards the small hut he'd spent so many nights alone.

 

 

"Kristjan! - Kristjan!" Kelda yelled, coming up behind him.

 

"What!" he turned to see her red, panting face.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Home!" he snapped

 

Kelda looked, "Your homes that way Kristjan, - along with your wife!" The look in his eyes told her she'd hit a nerve, but she didn't care. "You can't keep hiding away from her. She's your wife whether you wanted her or not."

 

"Why don't you go back to Balder, Kelda? Keep your mind out of my life!" His tone was harsh, a tone of a man filled with anger.

 

"I don't give a boar’s backside for your life. - But Dena's my friend and you’re making her miserable."

 

Kristjan stared at his companion, "Her friend. She's a Saxon; she doesn't have any friends here."

 

"Aye. - She's a Saxon!" Kelda was growing increasingly angry with her future brother. "But she has friends. She has me!"

 

Kristjan stepped forward. "And what does Balder and my father say to that."

 

"Balder knows that either he or the rest of your family control me. - I didn't realise that they controlled you!"

 

"You’re pushing your luck Kelda."

 

"Oh really. What you going to do. I see, it’s easier to stand up to me than to you father, or Dag." she chucked. "A pity really - I used to look up to you, you were the best of them." Kelda set off on her heels.

 

 

"I made an Oath!" he yelled after. "I mean to keep to it!"

 

"Your oath was made in anger Kristjan. You'd lost everything. But Odin sent her to you. Why can't any of you see that?"

 

"What makes you think that?"

 

"Timing, Kristjan - Timing." Kelda continued into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Kristjan set off after, intent on an explanation. Only to find Dena heading towards him. He froze, looking about him like a startled dear. He wanted to hid, but it was too late she'd seen him.

"Kristjan?" she spoke softly.

"What!" he snapped, with regret.

"Kelda said you wanted me."

Oh how he wanted her, but not now. He had too much to think on. What had Kelda meant by timing? "No. - She's mistaken."

Dena gazed at her feet. "Oh - are you staying in your cabin tonight?"

"Aye! - Is that alright with you." he snapped again. He could stop the harsh tone of his voice

Dena swallowed. "Of course - I am not your keeper."

"No - merely my wife."

The pair’s eyes met. Each trying to read the others thoughts as a cold winter wind blow between them. The smell of snow flouting above it. Dena looked up at the sky to check for the flurries, Kristjan followed her gaze.

"How many stars do you think there are?" Dena asked unthinkingly.

"Too many to count." Kristjan replied, his voice soft in the air

"I'd like to try." Dena smiled at him, their gazes locking for a second time.

Kristjan's heart pounding in his breast. His body warming with arousal. "You better get back to the village."

"Will you be warm enough out here?"

 _I’d be warmer with you beside me._ "I'll be fine." he nodded "You better be going."

The sadness was printed on Dena's face but neither could understand why. Shouldn’t she be happy not to have him in her bed?

"Good night Kristjan. God keep you save." Dena's last words melted into his mind as he watched her leave.

The night stretched out before them. They were separated by the dark frozen grass, but their minds were in the same place. Kelda had made her options clear but neither of them thought them founded. The kiss played with their minds like Loki, teasing them.

 

 _‘Timing’_ Kelda’s words echoed in Kristjan’s mind. When she first said them he hadn’t understood what she meant but in the dark, sleep evading him he realized. Hekon had ordered him from the village before he headed for Winchester. _‘You are no son of mine. - Do not be here when I return’_ had been his father’s parting word. And Kristjan had every intention not to be. He’d settled in to the small hut, in which he now lay. When his father returned he was expecting to be ordered from the county. Sent away with all the shame he deserved. He was amazed when his father invited him back, if only on the condition of his marriage. Had Odin sent her to him as his salvation? Maybe she was a test? A way to regain the honour they had stolen. Marrying his enemy, having her bare his son’s, would that be revenge? But he had not taken Dena since their wedding night; too angry to bed a woman he thought he could never love. Kristjan tossed and turned on the thin small straw bed. His mind whirling with the dilemma. Could it be that he just wanted to believe that Dena had been a gift sent by Odin so as to lift his burden. He wanted her but he didn’t want the guilt of breaking his oath.

 

 

The darkness held questions for Dena as well. She questioned her own feelings. She’d felt such a burning when she kissed Kristjan in the great hall, a burning she hadn’t felt before, not even with Blake. _But I love Blake._ She reminded herself. But did she? Could she still love a man who’d abandoned her? A man who didn’t love her. Her lips and thighs burned as the memory of Kristjan settled in her mind. It was followed by the recollection of his reaction to her that morning and hers to him. When he turned from her she had almost burst into tears. _Why? He hates me - and I hate him!_

 

She lay with her eyes gripped tightly shut. He hated her, he had made that clear. Of course he had defended her to his brother. That was what husbands did. _“But you’re a Saxon, Dena....trust me even his Viking honour wouldn't persuade him to defend you.”_ Kelda’s words singed into her mind. _“His feeling are strong. Very strong. Because he wouldn't break his oath. - He would have let Dag beat you.”_

She’s wrong. She had to be.

 

The sound of Dag and Freya’s coupling called though the walls to her. It had become as common to her ear as they owls and birds. Although it had also been the most uncomfortable feeling, listening to them while Kristjan lay next to her. But it had never seem as uncomfortable as it did then. She was alone, her husband choosing to sleep in a cold shack rather than with her. What more proof did Kelda want that Kristjan had no feelings for her? The tears sprung from her eyes like a waterfall. The pain swelled in her chest. Dena turned her face into her pillow, burying the sobs into the hard, padding. Not understanding why she was crying over a man she did not love, when she had not shed so much as a tear for Blake. The thumping against the back wall quickened, matching her every whimper.

 

Kristjan crossed the darkness. Being called by the single flame in the night. He approached to find whom he sort, Anselma. The old hag sat crossed legged on the dampening ground, above the burial mound of Ingemar Bohmson, Kristjan’s uncle and the first to die in this new land. Anselma’s hair blew wildly in the winter wind. Flying around her head like wings.

"You come to ask forgiveness from the Gods Kristjan Hekonson?" the ragged voice asked.

He glared down at her. "Do I have reason to ask forgiveness?"

Alselma raised her eyes to meet his. "Only Odin knows that?"

"You are Odin’s representative in Midgard, old woman….. If either of us knows - it’s you."

Alselma laughed a wicked, deep laugh. "So I do. - So I do."

There was silence. The old woman sat as still as a dead tree. The winter’s cold thrashing at Kristjan’s hip.

 

"Are you going to tell me old woman?" He snapped, staring down at her greying wave of hair. "Do I need forgiveness?”

"Forgiveness? For what?"

"You know perfectly well what. I have broken my oath to Odin. Have I not?"

"Would you not like to wait for your father, to hear what Odin has in store for…?"

"I have no care what Odin has in store for my father or brothers. I want an answer."

A crow cried in a tree above them. _Odin_ Kristjan thought gazing up at it. "Was that an aye or a nay?"

Alselma smiled. "What was your vow?"

"You know my vow Alselma - I spoke it here with you, on my uncle’s bones, in front of Odin, and bound it with my blood."

Alselma smiled again. Revealing her blacked teeth and it was almost wicked. "Oh Aye. You vowed to hate Saxon’s as long as he lived. And revenge yourself on the man that broke your body and your honour. Was that not it?"

"You know it was."

Alselma looked up at the tree as the crow cried again. She listened intently to his tones, her eyes closed to the world. Kristjan stood waiting for an answer. His heart pulsating though him. His hand clutched in fists against the cold.

"Odin will hold you to your oath Kristjan."

 

Kristjan didn’t understand why those words cut deeper than the wounds across his back. What did it matter if Odin was holding him to a vow he made on his family’s honour. But the pain was fast and profound.

"Are you sure you will not hear what I am to say to your father?"

Kristjan ignored the question, turning, he marched into the darkness.

"Kristjan Hekonson - You are not to love a Saxon!" she yelled after him before looking up at the Crow. "Of course she is not a Saxon.….. Anymore." the wicked chuckle followed those whispered words.

 

As Kristjan vanished into the darkness, the torchlight appeared from the direction of the village. Alselma smiled again, chuckling happily to herself.

"Have you news for me Alselma." Hekon asked with the respect of a man whose fate rested in the hands of the old woman.

 

"Hekon Bohmson - Chief of Stamgard. I have edict from Odin. Will you hear it." the women chuckled.

Hekon knelt on the ground in front of her. "I wish to hear it."

"Odin will call a son of Bohmson to his table. It his stead is a child, a fierce warrior with the wisdom of Odin, the heart of Freya and the might of Thor. He will bring glory to his names sake and revenge his people in their darkest hour!"

The crow cried above them and Hekon looked up at it.

"One of my son? Which? When? Tell me!"

"His name is only know to the Valkyrie that fly to his side. They will guide him to Valhalla, to the side of his ancestors."

"The Child?"

"I know no more than I say. Hekon Bohmson!" Alselma smiled as she lied. Then the night claimed her and she fell back onto the ground in sleep.

The sunlight stung at Dena’s eyes as she stood at the window gazing across the village. The river, a small trail of shimmering silver in the golden winter landscape. Her eyes were heavy with lack of sleep and shed tears. She hadn’t imagined the feeling of lose Kristjan’s absence from their bed would bring. Every sound in the night brought with it a ray of hope that he had returned, only to be shattered.

Even with his silence, Kristjan made her feeling protected and warm. Though she didn’t know it until that night. She’d missed the feeling of his body, solid next to hers. The smell of him. Kelda was right Dena though as the tears rose again. The revelation of her feelings had hit her with the might of Thor’s hammer. Sending them spiralling around her mind. How could she have such feelings for a man who resented and despised her? She couldn’t say if it was love she felt - it was so different to what she felt for Blake. It was deeper, and much, much more painful.

The door flew open and Dena found her heart leaping into her chest. She spun to find her hopes dashed as they had been so many time that night. Kelda stood in the door way, her eyes as swollen and red as Dena.

Dena felt fear grip her soul. "Kristjan!"

Kelda shook her head. "No. - Roydan." She saw the tears on Dena’s cheek and knew by her reaction they had been for her husband rather than his brother. If her soul was not in such agony she may have been glad to see Dena’s acceptance of her feelings. But instead she continued. "He’s - He’s been killed."

"What?" Dena felt another ache starting to eat at her.

"They found him this morning by the river." Kelda’s voice broke and floods of tears swam free.

"Kristjan."

"Balder’s gone to fetch him."

"I have to go to him. - He’ll be devastated."

"No!" Kelda grabbed at Dena’s arm as she passed. "They’ll be in morning all day. They’ll stand watch over his body until tonight."

Dena wanted to pull away, to run to her husband’s side, even if he didn’t want her. But sense told her Kelda was right. As she always seemed to be. "What happens tonight?"

Kelda fraught the tears that built again. "We send Roydan to Valhalla. Freya’s organising the Pyre now. - I should go help."

"I will come to." Dena stepped to the door.

"NO!"

Dena frowned at her friend unsettling harshness.

"You better stay here." she walked to the door. "He was killed Dena, killed by one of your people."

Dena was shocked to the core, her marriage was supposed to bring peace, why hadn’t it. Instead all it seemed to bring is heart ache and loneliness. "Are you sure?"

"Aye. - They will not want to see you today."

"What about the funeral?" Dena had never felt so alone and cast out than she did at the moment. She was going to be blamed for Roydan death. Even by Kelda.

Kelda eyes lowered in pity. "That’s up to Hekon. - But I don’t think you’ll be attending Dena." Kelda sent her a small apologetic smile before leave her alone.

Dena sank to her knees. She was alone in more ways than one. Any hopes she had for her and Kristjan where destroy with the death a young, sweet brother.       

 

Alselma’s words had buried themselves into Kristjan’s mind. The knowledge that Odin would hold him to his vow had stolen his sleep and his hope. Kelda had been wrong about her being a gift sent by Odin - she was a test or even a punishment. Either way what he felt for her was against his God’s decree. He would have to suffer the pain it caused him. A pain much worse than any a Saxon could inflict. In the deep sleepless night Kristjan had beg forgiveness and mercy. He’d asked for the feelings to be taken from him. But they only deepened. As he longed for Dena, his sleepless dreams filled with her. The way she laughed, her smile, her kiss. Making his body sear with desire. The day she stood in front of him and offered herself. The broken heart he’d see inflicted only days before that. Made his heart ache. The image of that night filled his minds eyes. The words as clear as birdsong in the silence. The man who stood before her willingly shattering her heart like a clay pot. Jealously cut into him. The man was a fool to let her get away. He was able to love her with the consent of his family and his God but instead he walked away. The damn fool. Kristjan sat on his bed, his head in his hands wishing she would leave him be.

 

The door flew open and the cold harsh light filled the wooden box. Kristjan’s eyes squinted as he focused on the figure. "Balder?"

"Father sent me for you… Come!"

Kristjan ignored his brother’s command and turned back to his bed. He had no care for his father, or his will.

"Kristjan! - You must come. - It’s Roydan."

Kristjan sprang to his feet with a shot of agony coursing through his body. "What?" concern filled his voice?

"He’s been killed. - Saxons!" Balder’s tone matched the anguish inside. "Come!"

 

Kristjan followed at his fastest pace. His anger and fury crawling to get free. While in the deep blackness of his heart was concern. Concern for his Saxon wife who would be punished for her people’s sins.

The flames lit the dark night sky as they engulfed Roydan's body. The whole village stood in their morning. After they walked two by two, from Stamgard to a large field of green. At its head was Hekon, followed in close succession the brothers caring Roydan’s empty shell. Kristjan should have carried his brother but his injuries made it impossible. So in his stead was his cousin Carr. So he followed behind, Freya’s march alongside. Dena and Kelda walked behind, the grief swelling inside them all. Dena could not help but feel that she should be at Kristjan's side, but remained behind, her head low as the eyes of those around her blistered her back. She still was unclear why she was even allowed to attend. Kelda had been so sure she wouldn’t.

Kristjan hadn’t spoken to her since the previous night. He hadn’t even looked at her. Was he blaming her for Roydan’s death, as the others where.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air, as the sound of singing filled Dena's ears. She could not understand the words but its sentiment made her sad, tears slipping from the corner of her eyes. Roydan had been such a nice sweet boy; He danced with her, talked to her - which was more than her own husband could do. She would miss Roydan. She felt the anger of his lose, and the shame - her own people had done this, they had broken an agreement for peace. Could she ever forgive them? She looked at Dag and Balder sensing the boiling resentment and fury beneath them. Her village would pay for this betrayal, she knew it and yet she couldn’t feel the protective instincts. Although she could sense their rage they did not show it outwardly, it almost seemed as if they did not feel anything for their young brother maybe that was the Viking way, they did not morn the way she did. The way Christians did. But a single glance to Kristjan as the glow of the flames light hit features. His scar almost glowing in the darkness, told her his pain was profound, his heart was broken. He loved his young brother and grief was clear and heart-breaking.

Dena stepped towards him, needing to comfort him. She felt Kelda grip her upper arm, causing her to look at her only friend. Kelda shock her head and mouthed the word "No!" but Dena ignored her. Kristjan was her husband, he was in pain. She walked to stand next to him, his deep melodic singing capturing her heart. Surrounding her, eyes widened at her impertinence but Dena ignored the glares. Slowly she slid her hand into Kristjan's cold palm, causing him to jump but not stop singing. He looked down at her. There was sympathy in her eyes, she understood his loss, and she shared his loss. Dena lips stretched into a sorrowful smile of support that caused Kristjan’s heart to leap into his tight emotional throat. Her grip tightened a little in his. Her hand felt as right in his, as right as her body felt next to him. Dena lowered her head, turning back to the raising flames she prayed. _Whichever God looked over us, take Roydan into his grace._


End file.
